


Posi+ive

by lollercakes



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, HIV/AIDS, Hurt/Comfort, Realistic, Sexually Transmitted Diseases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 73,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life comes hard and fast but some places make a difference in whether life spins you out or you're able to hold on. When Prim is diagnosed with HIV, Katniss comes home to help her keep things together, reaching out for the help from 'Posi+ve', a community resource centre and a home she never knew existed. AU look at the realities of HIV/AIDS and its stigma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It doesn't have a clinical smell like I expected. In fact, there's nothing clinical at all about 'Posi+ive', the HIV/AIDS support centre that I've just walked into. No – instead the place looks comfortable, filled with lounge furniture and open spaces with offices off to the side and coffee, snacks, and resources spread throughout.

I can see Prim being comfortable here. I hope, at least.

"Hi! Can I help you?" The voice startles me as I stand in the doorway to the centre - though it probably shouldn't - I'm taken off guard by the high pitch and the assault on my senses that is the woman's attire. It takes me a moment to orient myself to her expectant look.

"I – uh, hi?" I stutter, gripping my hands around the pamphlets I have. My eyes flicker over the woman's shoulder and catch on the striking blue eyes that stare at me from behind the reception desk. Inadvertently my stomach flutters and I have to look away at the ground and avoid both of these people. "Sorry." I mumble and step backwards towards the door.

I'm ready to run. I thought I could do this today – I thought I was ready to help, but being here in this place, knowing what it represents, is getting inside too fast. My feet are carrying me to the door as I stumble through more apologies before hearing the ring of the bell as I slip back onto the street. I make it a block before my body shudders and the tears rush to my eyes and I'm forced to lean against a building for support.

That's where the man from behind the reception desk finds me with my head pressed to the cold brick and my jacket wrapped up around my ears. I don't hear him for the first minute that I assume he's talking to me – too caught up in my own head to notice. But when he taps my shoulder and hands me another pamphlet (that makes five in my hands today alone) I take it willingly and mumble a quiet "Thanks".

"Look, I know it's hard and Effie can scare you off at first, but if you give it a shot, you'll find what you're looking for here," He continues and I finally look up from my hands full of paper to meet his gaze. He's smiling, bright and wide, as his blue eyes sparkle in the cool spring air. He's not wearing a coat – that's foolish of him.

I watch as the smile slips just a little and I realize that I've said it out loud. "Dammit – sorry. I'm not your mother. Just, it's cold out. Why are you out here?" I question, finally wording what I don't particularly understand about why he would chase the crazy girl down the street.

"Because I know what it's like to come face to face with it all and I wanted you to have someplace safe to come. Everyone needs somewhere safe." He pauses and I see him look across the street to the sputtering traffic passing us by. When he looks back, he extends his hand towards me and the smile is back in full force. "I'm Peeta."

It's now or never, I can't help but think. Despite the way my hands are shaking and the sour taste in my mouth, I know that I need to do this for Prim. We need to find her the best support system, the best people, to help us get through these first few months because surely I won't be enough and Mum won't do anything.

"Katniss – I'm Katniss." I murmur and he smiles even wider, if that were possible. My stomach flutters again at the sight of it and I bite my lip to bring me back to ground level.

"Well Katniss, are you going to come back so I can give you the tour or has Effie really scared you off?" He jokes brightly. Shifting on my feet I look at my car down the road and back at the centre up the block before taking in the pamphlets in my hand.

I can't do this alone.

"Let's go take a look."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super excited to announce that I'll be working with Opaque, a reader well versed in the subject of HIV/AIDS care who is doing an amazing job at betaing this story for me so that it gets it right and, well, she corrects my horrendous tense problem too! I can't promise that updates will be this quick or regular, but I wanted to get this out as a thank you to all my celebrating readers on this American Thanksgiving (I know there's a lot of you!) Happy Turkey Day! And happy Hanukkah to all those celebrating this too! You're all amazing and the best, ily.

The warmth of the centre immediately washes over me as we step through the doors and I shiver as the cool air leaves my skin. I’m struck again by how welcoming it is and how the walls are covered with positive images and posters of acceptance. The front desk area itself is more formal hosting a computer, stacks of paper and an area filled with waiting-room style chairs.

“Now, you’ve already seen the front office – how about we start with the resource room?” Peeta starts, motioning with his hand towards a room off to the left of the hallway. I struggle momentarily to remove my scarf and jacket while still holding the pamphlets before I drop them all and let out an exasperated groan. Peeta only laughs lightly and takes my jacket from me, hanging it up in the front while I collect my papers. “Don’t worry – it’s okay to be overwhelmed at first. I have that effect on people.”

Another joke. I can’t help but snort a laugh.

“Good. Laughter. That’s a good sign. Okay, so-“ He leads me into a large room that’s lined with bookcases and cupboards and open wooden desks with plastic chairs. Each desk features a canister of craft supplies and a packet of markers. “This is the resource room where we do practically everything. Informational pamphlets are over here, reading materials are here,” He points out the row of bookcases that feature a huge variety of literature on not only HIV and AIDS but other STIs as well. “Over in this area,” he pauses as he opens a cupboard door to reveal stacks upon stacks of plastic bins. “Is where we have our needle exchange kits. If you need them, you just come and grab it – Used materials go here but we don’t allow using on the property, just so you know.”

“Oh – no. No.” I state and hold up my hands backing away from the cupboard. “It’s not like that!” I insist and look at him with my eyes wide. Peeta only shrugs.

“That’s fine – we’re a judgement free place. Just want to show you your options is all,” he explains and moves on to the next cupboard after closing the first one with a click. “This one here is a pretty popular one – pet supplies. If you need anything, try finding it here first. We get a lot of donations for this project as it’s the first and only one in the city.”

I nod my head, taking in the idea but not completely understanding why this place would have a pet supply cabinet. Peeta must notice the look of confusion on my face because he smiles and pulls out a dog’s chew toy which he squeezes quickly, eliciting the sharp noise.

“Animals are sometimes the only relationships people with positive status can keep. Social stigmas and fear create a lot of barriers. That coupled with the financial difficulties – it’s good to have a place where people can get food for their best friend, even if they can’t afford it, you know?” Placing the toy back on the shelf, Peeta shuts the cabinet door as I’m digesting his explanation.

It seems so simple – such a positive way to look at a hard situation. The idea of a pet cupboard is beyond thoughtful but it’s not that that makes my chest tighten. It’s the other factors he mentioned – the hard situations that Prim is going to face in the coming months. The coming years. He sees it on my face – I know because he mirrors the sad look for just a second – before he moves me back out into the hallway.

“Down here,” he starts again, thankfully disregarding my reaction. “We have the offices. Regional and district volunteers work out of here – you can talk to them anytime you need to. If you want to make appointments or need references, you can set up times with reception. They’re varied but these guys know what’s up – social services, government programs, workplace issues – you name it, they can help. I’d recommend Haymitch Abernathy if you can get past the attitude.”

Stepping down a bit further Peeta leads me into the open space I saw when I first stepped through the doors. The room is twice the size of the resource space and filled with more book shelves, a flat screen TV, refreshments near the back and more couches and comfortable chairs than a Leon’s. Though the space is empty, I can just imagine what this place must look like on the counselling nights that Prim’s doctor, Andrew Cinna, mentioned during our briefing.

“It’s not much,” Peeta starts as he turns back to face me. I hold up my hand and step past him into the room, taking a moment to look at the tiles filled with drawings on the walls and a large piece of fabric that covers a whole wall.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper and stand, stoic, in the middle of the room.

Peeta doesn’t say any more as I let myself come to terms with the idea of spending a lot of time here. Though the thought is terrifying and reality shaking, I know that it’s for the best. I know that Prim will love it and that she’ll benefit from this. Because Prim needs people and the most terrifying thing about her being sick, apart from what she’s sick with, is that she’ll lose that spark.

I couldn’t bear to see her lose that.

Peeta leaves me to wander through the space for a little, offering apologies when the phone at the front desk rings. I’m thankful for it, at least, to get a moment to let it all settle without the flurry that he causes in me when he’s near.

When I finally make my way back out to the front, he’s sitting in front of the computer screen and typing away with a thick-rimmed pair of glasses on. His hair is mussed and his brow is furrowed as he navigates through the system. Noticing I’m there, the frown dissipates and he smiles again, shifting his glasses off his face and looking up at me.

“Will we see you again, Katniss?” He asks hopefully and I can’t help but return the smile he shares.

“I think so. Just gotta convince one other person...” I mumble and although that’s my perfect chance to exit, my feet don’t seem to carry me away. Instead they stay rooted, hoping for more interaction with this blue-eyed man.

“Oh?” He counters and though the smile remains, his eyes shelter just a little. “Is it your boyfriend? We’ve got a great couples night on-“ Pausing he flips through a calendar on the desk and I can’t hold my laugh.

“No, no. Nope. Not a chance. My sister, Primrose. That’s who I’m here for.” I state and he looks up, meeting my eyes. I can’t make out the look he’s giving me now – it’s a mixture of sadness, disappointment, and maybe a little admiration.

I don’t understand it. But then I’ve never been very good at understanding people.

“Well, then I hope we see you soon. Here’s our card – if you need anything, if she has questions, just give us a call, alright?” The kindness is there, but the brightness has disappeared. I nod, and slip the card in with the rest of my pamphlets.

“Thank you Peeta, for everything today.” I don’t stick around after that, instead making my way down the street to my car in record time. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, buckled in with the radio blaring, I finally let my anger out and slam my fists on the steering wheel.

This was not supposed to happen. Not to my sweet Prim. She was too good – too smart – too safe. She’d never hurt a fly in her life and now _this_. What was worse was that now I was driving around looking for centres because she, like our mother, didn’t want to get out of bed after bad news. I’d half-hoped when she called me, through my tears of course, that she would have it together. I mean, she was calling me and telling me after so long.

I’d left Prim here to go to school in Portland, Oregon. The other side of the country and what might as well have been the other side of the world. When Prim called me right after winter exams were over to tell me she’d tested positive for HIV, I’d been shell-shocked. She’d claimed she’d held off telling me until my exams were over because she wanted me to finish the year but that she’d found out in January. Her news had nearly killed me inside. I hadn’t waited for her to tell me anymore – instead I’d opened my barely-working laptop and booked the soonest flight home that I could afford.

I left that night telling my roommate Madge to sell off whatever she didn’t need and that I wouldn’t be coming back for the foreseeable future. She’d been pissed, but I knew she’d be fine. Prim was more important.

When I’d gotten home, I’d discovered that Prim was living just as well as I’d left her, maybe even a little better with the money I’d sent back. Our small apartment was still barren but she’d added a few plants and a nice throw over the couch.

We’d sat on that couch and cried for the first few hours. Everything had seemed dreary, but almost like it was going to be alright.

That is until the next day when she did what she’s done since I’ve gotten back – laid in bed and only moved to use the washroom. Since then, it’s been like I’ve had to talk her into everything. Every meal, every shower, every doctor’s appointment – all negotiated.

But I really shouldn’t complain. This never should have happened. It was never in the cards. I guess it was luck of the draw. Prim was always so good – I couldn’t understand how this had happened even though she told me she’d only went to get tested because an ex-boyfriend had contacted her and said she’d needed to. Turns out she’d likely had it for years – since just after I left – but she hadn’t been showing symptoms.

Until now. Now that she knew, it was like her symptoms had blossomed overnight. Like she had the never-ending flu. Her doctor Cinna, who had been a lifeline in this storm, had said it was likely a combination of stress and the virus that was intensifying her situation. He’d recommended finding a support system and getting her mind past it and back into her normal life. A normal life for a young woman with HIV.

“How am I supposed to do that, Katniss?” Prim spat, finally sitting up in her bed and scowling at me. “How do I go back to my pre-med program and say ‘Hey guys, my blood is toxic, can I operate on you?’” She was raging now, only hurting herself with her words. I stood in the doorway, dumbfounded with her discarded breakfast tray still in my hands. I’d only brought it up as a suggestion and now she was screaming.

I’d never seen my Prim like this.

It had been that episode that had made me call Cinna and ask for recommendations. Posi+ive had been my third stop the next day.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Another huge crazy big thanks to Opaque who's helping me with beta'ing this story. Trust me when I say that she's making it ten times better than it was. Updates will come as they come, I'm dealing with a crazy cold right now and two jobs so I'm trying to juggle everything but if you want to come hang out, I'm lollercakesff on Tumblr! Much love.

“Prim,” I call, opening her door to find her room dark. She is curled under the sheets again, small like I used to remember her being when we were young and nearly starving.

After Dad had died. When Mum had given up. Before I’d learned how to survive.

We are struggling to survive again now.

“Go away Katniss,” Prim groans as she rolls over. I am tired of this treatment, of her blatant dismissal. I’d come back to help her, not to get shoved away at every opportunity. No, that’s not going to happen.

Stepping into her room, I pad over to the bed until I am lying down behind her, wrapping my body around hers. 

“It’s going to be alright, Prim. It’s not a death sentence anymore – I’ve done a lot of reading and there are medicines and treatments. You can still do everything you want to – everything, I promise.” I pause knowing I can’t really promise her everything but refusing to not give her that hope. I run my fingers through her hair; pushing it back from her face in the way our mother used to before she disappeared. “I’ve found this place. They have resources and people to help. They seem really nice and you can just go and hang out there, meet some people your own age. There’s even a young adult night where they get together and do stuff around town. It could be good for you until you’re ready to go back to school.”

I feel her stiffen in my arms just before pulling away.

“I can’t go back to school, Katniss. Are you a fool?” This seemed to always be our deal breaker. She can’t even bear the idea of it. I try to hold in my sigh of frustration as she sits up, regarding me. “Have you ever met an HIV positive doctor? Have you ever met someone as stupid as me who’s a doctor? No. Because doctor’s know better. Doctor’s –“ Mimicking her, I sit up abruptly and pull her to me until her hands stop trying to push me away.

“Prim! You’re not stupid!” I yell and feel my fingers digging into her back. I am desperate for her to understand this.

Though I’d only read half of what I had received from Cinna, I knew that Prim’s biggest issue right now wouldn’t be the illness. She’d suffer from her own mind and her own anger and I would have to be there for her and combat her own negative thoughts every step of the way.

“I love you Prim, but you’re being so thick headed about this. You can do this, I know you can. I know it seems scary, that you’re sick and that it doesn’t look good right now, but you’re the strongest person I know; you’ve got the heart and the head to fight this disease. Life happens and you need to move forward with it. If it’s the last goddamn thing I do in this world I’m going to make sure you live it!” My voice is raw as I say it and I know it’s because I’m still coming to terms with the fact that my baby sister is sick.

She knows it too.  

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Katniss,” she mumbles against me, her body seeming to collapse against my chest as the fighting stops. “I know now it wasn’t real, but we were high school fools and it was good while it lasted. He promised that he was safe and everything. That we didn’t need condoms because it was fine and there wasn’t anyone else for him. I was so stupid to believe him. I’m so ashamed of how stupid I was to think it was okay. I _know_ better,” she states, hiccupping as she hides her face. I let my arms wrap around her tighter as she explains how she’d fallen for her first boyfriend hard after I’d left for school. “I didn’t even know until he called me to tell me I needed to get checked. Do you know how embarrassing that is to tell people I’ve been with since then? How horrible that makes me feel?”

“Prim, you didn’t know. And you’ve been safe since then, right?” I question tentatively.

“Yeah, but _still_. What if? Anything could have happened. And I want to be a doctor, Katniss. That’s what I’ve always wanted and now I can’t even face it. Every time I think about it I think about how stupid I must have been to fall for the oldest trick in the book. It’s rule number one: wear a condom, protect yourself. It’s so preventable and I didn’t do it and now I’m sick. It makes me a hypocrite!” she shouts with frustration as I try to understand. I take a moment to gather my thoughts, careful of what I say next.

“Can you listen to me for just a minute? Please?” I ask and hold her shoulders until she’s able to meet my gaze. “You’re not a hypocrite. You made a decision and it was a mistake. But it happens to people all the time and it doesn’t make them stupid, or bad, or any less of a person. You can still be what you want to be, it just might be a little bit harder, okay? We’ll get through this, you just need to believe we will.” She doesn’t respond to my words, her face only scrunching up as more tears come and she curls into me again.

I let her cry into my shirt, the frustrated sobs that wrack her body at my words. For the first time since I’ve come back it seems like she’s heard me, that’s she’s finally realized that I’m here to stay and that we can get through this.

At least, that’s what I hope for as I hold her close and try to keep the fears at bay.

* * *

It’s two weeks before I’m able to convince Prim to go to the centre. Two long weeks of her slowly breaking out of her depression and finally coming around to getting back into life. I know it’s not that easy – there’s still so far to go – but it’s a step I can’t help but celebrate.

When we pull up to the curb and I put the car in park, I look over to see her watching out the window with disdain. She’s looking at the centre with its barren signage and its cold brick exterior.

“This is the place?” She grumbles, fiddling with her purse in her lap.

“It’s much better inside, I promise,” I admit and open my door to get out. She slowly follows suit and waits until I’m standing beside her before we head down the sidewalk. “If you want to leave at any time, just say the word and we’ll go, okay?” She nods and reaches for the door, surprising me by taking the lead.

Inside, the place is as brightly lit as I remember it but with a few extra decorations that weren’t there before. Prim looks on with interest, a small smile playing at her lips as she takes in the feel of the place. My eyes don’t leave her face until a familiar voice perks up from behind reception and I look over to see Peeta smiling widely at us.

“You’re back! I was starting to give up hope,” he states and makes his way out from behind the desk to greet us. “You must be Primrose. I’m Peeta.” Prim looks at me with wide eyes, completely ignoring Peeta’s outstretched hand.

“You told him about me?” She sneers and I scowl in return.

“I didn’t tell him anything apart from your name,” I bite back and turn a smile towards Peeta who has lowered his hand after our exchange.

“Well, I’m glad you could make it. Welcome!”

Peeta wastes no time in starting Prim’s tour, showing her around the same areas that he first showed me. Prim seems particularly interested in the needle exchange, taking time to ask about its harm reduction studies as I cringe inwardly, still unable to come to terms with the idea. I’m trying to understand it, but it still makes me queasy.

While the two of them make their way around, I move to one of the waiting room chairs and settle in, perfectly okay with waiting at the front and people watching those who come and go. When I hear the now-rare spark of Prim’s laughter, my excitement grows and I can’t help the smile that lights up my face.

I’m still smiling when Prim and Peeta come back into the reception area and find me sitting with my legs crossed and my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I’m nervous, a little unsure as to whether this suggestion will actually work out for Prim or whether she’ll slip back into her depression afterwards. When I look up and see the familiar smile on her lips, I nearly cry at the sight.

“This place is great, Katniss.” She is near thrumming with energy as she says it, almost bouncing on her heels. “Peeta here runs the Outings Nights on Thursdays. He said you could come if you wanted; it’s not just for those with positive status. Plus, you can hang out here too, if you want.” 

“Yeah – we welcome anyone from the community. It’s incredibly important to have everyone’s support system welcome here.” Peeta adds as he rests his hands in his pockets. I can’t help but notice that he seems at ease as he looks between Prim and I. “Prim mentioned she wanted to look at the books in the back – did you want to come back and hang out for a bit? It’s probably more comfortable than these chairs.”

I nod and join them in the back lounge area as Prim begins rifling through the bookcases and chatting openly with a woman wearing very few clothes for the temperature outside. Settling stiffly down on one of the checkered couches, Peeta joins me sitting in the opposite corner. I can’t help but notice the way he watches me with an intensity that I can’t quite place. I’m just about to ask him about it when he breaks the silence and seemingly snaps out of his gaze.

“We have volunteer training nights – if you wanted to participate in one. They help with a lot of the big questions and the issues that some people struggle with.” Peeta states, always watching Prim out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not struggling with anything,” I reply brusquely and shift my body slightly away from him, only a little bit offended that he’d think I needed some information session. I feel him more than hear him shift a little closer.

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying it’s there – if you want it. People say it helps. Especially-“ I cut him off, not wanting to hear about my inadequacies anymore.

“What’s that?” I ask instead, motioning towards the large fabric design on the wall. Next to me Peeta sucks in a breath.

“That’s our part of the AIDS Memorial Quilt. Do you know what that is?” He asks quietly, getting to his feet and walking over to where it’s fastened to the wall. I follow him slowly, curious and a little drawn to him.

“I think so?” I say questioningly, hoping he’ll explain as I draw my finger along the design. He doesn’t disappoint.

“It started in San Francisco. There are literally thousands of these pieces in some storage room somewhere and sometimes they display them all at the same time. Covered the National Mall in Washington once. It’s to memorialize and celebrate those who’ve died in some way or another because of AIDS.” Peeta recites almost reverently.

“That’s beautiful,” I whisper quietly and observe the multiple panels stitched together, each with their own design.

“There’s still a lot of beauty in this world.” Peeta adds more quietly and when I look at him, he’s staring at me with a look that makes the blood pound in my ears.

“Yo, Peet!” The voice calls out from the front of the office and a tall man with copper hair pokes his head down the hallway. “What’s up?” He calls out and steps into the room. Seemingly hesitant that he’s interrupting, the man pauses and looks between Prim and I. It just registers that my cheeks are flaming from the incident before and so I look away as Peeta steps towards the man.

“Finnick, awesome that you’re here. This is Prim, and her sister Katniss.” Peeta introduces us and Finnick bounds into the room to shake both of our hands. He smiles widely and I’d bet he’d waggle his eyebrows if this were any place other than the centre.

“Ladies, pleasure to meet you. Will we be seeing you around?” Finnick asks, rubbing his hands together.

“Probably. Katniss, Prim – this is Finnick. He’s one of the outreach volunteers for the centre. He handles public relations and booths when we’re called out to resource fairs and stuff. You’ll probably see him around more than you’d like,” Peeta jokes and Finnick turns and punches him lightly in the ribs.

“Hey – don’t give them a bad impression already!” He bemoans and turns back to face us. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal this guy here for a moment? Centre business to sort out,” Finnick announces and pulls Peeta into one of the offices off the hallway. I can somewhat hear the hushed voices from inside the room before Prim declares that she’s found what she’s looking for and that she’s ready to go.

We don’t wait around to say goodbye before we step out the door to go and get some lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Have I mentioned that my beta, Opaque, is the person who is making this story possible? Her skills in not just editing my terrible grammar but also pointing out questions and angles that I don't/haven't approached fully is unbelievable. She is making this story so much better and I'm so glad to be sharing our work with you guys. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and please, come visit me on Tumblr if you have any questions - lollercakesff. Much love.

"Look, I know you don't cover pre-existing conditions, but this isn't pre-existing. It's –" I state into the phone only to be interrupted by the woman on the other end. She drones on about the insurance policies surrounding Prim's anti-retroviral medications and how Prim's health care coverage is limited to recent illnesses.

No matter how many times I tell her it _is_ recent, the woman keeps reverting back to the time of transmission.

I'm not getting anywhere.

"She's sick – what don't you heartless fuckers understand!?" I shout, my burst of anger finally breaking through. I click the end button on my phone before tossing it across the room and watching it hit the floor with a thump.

Ever since her diagnosis, Prim's insurance has been giving her the run around. Her regimen treatments cost a over fifteen hundred dollars a month and if we don't get it settled soon Prim won't have any school money left from Dad even if I can convince her to go back. The idea kills me inside. And honestly makes me want to murder someone.

I'm only glad she isn't around to see me crack. Thankfully, Prim is out at her first afternoon session at the centre where she is meeting with some of the other women to learn about things that she can possibly expect. She invited me to come but after my last interaction with the too-good-looking Peeta receptionist, I decided to make my attendance there minimal. There is no way I am going to let something like that interfere with Prim's happiness.

Just as I'm pulling lasagna out from the stove for dinner I'm greeted by Prim's shout from the doorway. I can tell immediately that she's in a good mood by the way she instantly begins to ramble on non-stop about her time at the centre. Walking back into the kitchen I feel the smile pulling at my lips as I watch her take down plates and begin to set the table. She does so without prompting for the first time in months and I know it, I can see, the way the session has provided her with a missing piece that the virus had taken from her.

All throughout dinner, despite the money matters on my mind, I hear about all the different ways she has to be careful with her body now and all of the things she can do without getting anyone sick. The relief in her voice is palpable as she details how physical contact ranges in risk level and how she's able to do a lot more than she initially thought.

"I didn't realize before how wrong I was with what I thought I knew. Did you know that I can even have _sex_ , Katniss?" She whispers excitedly while calmly scooping more salad onto her plate. I nearly choke on my mouthful of food as I twist around towards her.

"Prim," I start, instantly cutting myself off because I'm really not sure _what_ I should say to that. Of course my little sister has sex. Of course that's important to her. I just – I have to stop myself from even thinking about it because I know if I do I will inevitably wind up saying something terrible and close-minded. When I finally break from my thoughts and look back to her, she's smiling sadly at me, nodding slightly.

"I think it was really good for me, Katniss." Her voice is small when she says it, her hand reaching out for mine. "I learned things that my pre-med classes didn't tell me about. Like how the treatment has changed and how medicines and viral loads can be controlled and I can live a normal life. I've spent so much time thinking things were still like they were in the eighties – I was so consumed with that that I didn't even think about anything else. These women, Katniss, they told me so much about their own experiences, about how some people just didn't think and were afraid of them because they didn't understand how everything works. It made... It made me really glad I have you here and I just, I love you, Katniss." We sit there quietly for a moment, holding hands and watching our plates with unnecessary interest. "They told me to get a dog, too," she mutters after a moment, resuming her excited tone.

We spend the rest of dinner arguing happily about getting a dog, me adamantly saying no while trying not to let her convince me with her excitable charm – the same charm that was hiding under the misconceptions that she feared about her status. Seeing the hope coming back to her is like watching the light come back into her eyes and for the first time in a long time I am able to breathe easy.

I've never been more thankful for Posi+ive than I am after dinner.

* * *

"I've got some errands to run this morning," Prim calls from the bedroom. I'm in the hallway, braiding my hair back from my face as she gets ready to go. I'm waiting for her to leave before I head out on my own to the centre to find out more about financial assistance. Though I've found a job here doing temp work, it won't be nearly enough money to pay for Prim's drugs and she's not stable enough on her meds yet to return to work.

Just two days ago she couldn't leave the bathroom because of the vomiting and diarrhea. I'd called Cinna's office, panicked as to what to do. They'd simply told me to watch and let them know if things got worse.

"Alright, you'll call me if you need anything, right? A ride? Anything?" I shout in return and move into the kitchen to grab a granola bar. Prim bounces out from the bedroom looking lively and nods.

"I'll call you, or I've got Gale's number if you don't pick up," she responds and I can't help the way my lips tighten into a line at her mention of Gale.

Gale Hawthorne and I used to be thick as thieves but when I found out a few weeks ago that he didn't tell me about my sister's condition when he picked her up from the clinic in January, I nearly tracked him down and broke his teeth. He'd betrayed me and the wound was still fresh.

"Katniss – don't hate him. I asked him not to tell you," Prim moans seeing the look on my face. I nod my head, silently promising that I'll work on getting over it even though I know I won't. "Fine. I'll be home by four."

And with that, she's disappeared out the door and is one step closer to independence. I breathe a sigh of relief and give myself ten minutes before heading down into the parking garage from our apartment and climbing into my car. The drive to the centre is uneventful with typical frustrating traffic in the morning rush. Stepping through the door, I'm surprised to see a woman at the desk instead of Peeta who I was honestly expecting.

The woman is achingly thin, her hair cropped close to her head and subtle muscles lining her lithe frame. When she meets my eyes over the edge of the desk it's more of a scowl than a smile.

"Can I help you or can I get back to my game of Tetris?" The woman sneers and clicks her mouse a few times. If I weren't already exhausted by assholes I'd have had a good comeback.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask wearily, more apt to discuss my options with him than with this snarling woman.

"He doesn't work here in the mornings – gotta pay the bills by teaching munchkins how to paint instead. What do you need?" Pulling out a pad of paper, the woman grabs a pen and looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, okay. Um. I need to talk to someone about paying for the antiretroviral drugs." I state carefully, referencing Prim's drugs.

"ARVs, huh? Well that's a tricky beast," the woman states and picks up the phone. "Haymitch – gotta customer out here for ya."

"Johanna, you know I don't take people before 11am-" Haymitch growls stepping into the hallway before seeing me standing in the lobby. I'm taken aback by his messy appearance and his dishevelled hair.

"Look, I don't make the rules old man. She wants to talk about ARV funding. Don't worry – his bark is worse than his bite." Johanna adds and then turns back to her computer. I stand there for a moment, staring down the surly man before he motions for me to follow him into his office.

"Haymitch Abernathy – counsellor. HAART right? " He asks before sitting down heavily in his chair. I stand awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before he pauses from turning on his computer to look at me. "Well, are you going to sit down so we can talk this through or what?"

"Uh, yeah. Okay." I stutter and fall into a seat on the other side of his desk. Pulling out a folder of paper, I review Cinna's notes on Prim's 'highly active antiretroviral therapy' that he told me to just call 'HAART'. Sighing audibly, I try to refresh my memory on the abbreviations and how the pills she's taking now are three treatments rolled into one to make her HAART simpler.

"For you or someone else?" He asks again, breaking into my thoughts and looking at me blankly.

"For someone else. My sister, Primrose. Her insurance says it's pre-existing because they think she was infected before her coverage started with school." The life slowly seems to come back to me as I recount all of the ways the insurance has tried to wiggle its way out from under the costs.

"Yeah those fuckers don't want to pay for anything with this disease," Haymitch adds and taps a few things onto his keyboard. "Alright – let's start with the basics. Age, length since diagnosis, current status, and we'll go from there."

The meeting overall is not positive. Though we find a few solutions, the main problem of funding is only addressed by getting Prim on waiting lists for a variety of programs. Because of her new status and the fact that she hasn't yet been diagnosed with AIDS, she doesn't qualify for Medicaid and some other state programs. Haymitch tries to sympathize but when he starts to bring up loan discussions, drug trials and other financial debt options, I begin to shut down. There's no way a bank is going to give us a loan – we've got no collateral, no co-signers, nothing.

"We're fucked," I grumble tiredly and press my fingers to my eyes. I can hear Haymitch lean back in his squeaky chair and when I look at him he's frowning.

"The good thing is that you're on the lists. You didn't wait until you didn't have anything left – that was smart. Now all you've got to do is hold out until the funding comes through. Keep doing what you're doing, try to stay afloat. The centre will help as much as it can – that's what we're here for. Now, what about your parents? Are they in the picture?" He looks like he's reluctant to talk about it, like it's normally a sore subject to bring up but he has to. I hate to confirm his reluctance.

"Dad's dead and Mum is hopeless. I'm all she's got," I mumble and it's at that exact point, at the realization that I'm all Prim has and I'm not much of anything, that brings me to the edge and I lose it. The sobs are silent, thankfully, because I can hear the ribbing that's happening in the hallway outside the room and I'd hate for people to hear me. But Haymitch sees and he doesn't move to comfort me or hold my hand and goddamn him I'm thankful for that because I can't take his pity right now.

Haymitch grows a little bit more in my eyes for not coddling me in this moment. I respect it.

"She's got one hell of a fighter on her side," is all he says before he slides a Kleenex box across the desk to me and hands me a folder with the financial forms I need to fill out and have Prim sign.

On my way out I ignore the calls of my name from Peeta behind the reception desk. I didn't realize that the day had passed so quickly and that it's already mid-afternoon when I finally escape onto the street. I'm halfway to my car when Peeta calls out again from behind me and I turn to find him standing three steps away.

"Is everything okay? Is Prim okay?" He asks carefully and takes another step closer. His hands are in his pockets again but I can see the tension carried in his shoulders and the frown lines on his forehead. I nod and brush at my damp cheeks, damning myself for crying.

"She's fine. Just other stuff," I mumble and nod again to myself before turning away and taking another few steps to my car.

"Want to come have some pasta?" He prompts again and I have to laugh at the oddity of his question. Turning back, I can't hold in the smile.

"What?" I ask and take in his infectious grin.

"Lunch – I've got some extra. Come share it, talk a bit. Keep me company." He holds out his hand and I take it carefully.

"Okay, but I've got to head home before four or else Prim will freak."

Together we head back into the centre. Once inside, Peeta grabs another chair and pulls it around behind the reception desk for me to sit in while he lands heavily in his own spinning just a little. I can't help the smile that blooms when he turns back to me after clearing off a space and handing me a plastic fork.

"So, tell me Katniss Everdeen, what's your story?" Peeta prompts as soon as we're settled. The question knocks me off balance for a moment and I stare at him, mouth agape, as he stabs some cold pasta onto his own fork. When he looks up again and sees me staring, he laughs lightly as his cheeks flare red. "Okay – maybe too forward a question. How about, what do you do?"

"Oh, um. Well, right now I'm doing temp work. I didn't get to finish my degree yet and finding something that pays the bills here is still a bit tricky. How about you? Johanna said you teach?" I reply, hastily trying to steer the conversation away from myself. I hate talking about myself, particularly about how much I'm screwing things up.

"You talked to Jo about me?" His eyes light up with mirth as he laughs, dipping his head to hide the food in his mouth as he chews.

"Well, she mentioned it when you weren't here..." My voice is small, unsure if he's laughing at me or at the idea of Johanna and I gossiping about him. Which we weren't. At all.

"Yeah, of course. No, I teach art classes to pay the bills. Didn't need a degree for that, thankfully. It's just the best – plus, I get to use all of those supplies. It's awesome. What are you studying?" I respond lightly to his questions, usually trying to steer them away from myself and onto other things. Eventually, Peeta starts to catch on and we move towards more meaningless questions like my favourite colour and whether I'm good at pinball or not.

Afterwards, as I head towards home, I realize that lunch was the easiest thing I've done in a while. I don't know what particularly it is, but Peeta is almost effortless to talk to. It's even easier once you get him talking about the kids in his art class, which he teaches at the local public school, and you get to see the light fill his eyes like nothing else.

Prim isn't home though when I get back. I start the prep on dinner and am just finishing mixing the salad when four-thirty rolls by. Sending a quick text, I try not to let the anxiety pool in my gut. When she still isn't home by five and there's no answer on my phone I give in and call Gale. He picks up on the third ring.

"Where are you?" He grunts into the phone, recognizing my number. "Why didn't you answer your phone?" I nearly drop my phone in surprise and I can't help the defensive tone from creeping into my voice as the remnants of my good mood created by my afternoon with Peeta disappear in a blip.

"What are you talking about?" I snap. "Is she with you?"

"Yes – she's napping on my couch. She tried to call you three times but you never picked up. Where were you?" He asks accusingly and I nearly snap my phone in two.

"My phone didn't ring Gale, not once. I've been home for the past two hours waiting for her. Why is she there? Is she alright?" The anger seems to dissipate as the fear overtakes me. I'm grabbing my car keys and wallet and walking out the door before he's even answered my question.

"She was dizzy out shopping. Said she couldn't reach you so I brought her here," he responds and the venom seems to lessen.

"Okay. Alright. I'm on my way; give me fifteen." I state and click the phone closed as I slide the buckle into the clasp.

I make it in ten.

"Hey, Prim," I croon as I brush her bangs off her forehead. It's a little clammy but nothing I haven't dealt with since being home. "Come on Little Duck, let's go home."

"Where were you?" she moans and curls up a little tighter. I try to ignore the accusation and the harsh stare that is affixed to me from Gale who's standing behind me. Instead I reach my hands towards her and softly pull her up into a seated position.

"I had my phone on the whole time – I don't know why it didn't ring. You know I'd never not pick up," I defend myself and go to reach for her phone. I check her outgoing calls and see my name reflected back. When I go to check my contact card, I see it still has my Portland number listed. She must have forgotten I changed it. I look to Gale sadly and show him her phone before reaching down to pick my sister up and wrap an arm around her waist.

"Here, I've got her," Gale insists and lifts her into his arms as though she's as light as a feather. We make our way down to the car and he slides her into the passenger seat carefully before buckling her up.

"Thank you for getting her, Gale." I thank him quietly as he pokes his head in the door. I see the swift nod before he shuts it and steps back onto the curb. The drive home is eerily quiet as I think about the look Gale had given me before I drove off.

Back before I'd moved to Portland, Gale had been the one I leaned on through thick and thin. We'd been together for years, both as friends and as more, before I had to leave for school – before I had to leave him behind.

The relationship hadn't quite survived the distance. We grew apart, unable to maintain a long distance connection without the everyday reassurances that we used to have. Our stubbornness and jealousy seemed to pick at us like open sores before we finally broke it off and tried to revert back to friends.

It had only sort of worked. We stayed in contact, still managed to visit one another when we were in town, and somehow we even still had that trust we'd relied on for all those years. Gale was familiar, comforting and reliable and I couldn't lose him or his family.

But I can't really forgive him for the secret he kept. Not yet anyways. I'm simply not there yet.


	5. Chapter 5

“Peeta was asking about you today,” Prim teases in the girly girl voice that she knows always makes me scowl. She’s been hinting at it for the past week that Peeta is good looking and a nice guy and that I should definitely keep him in mind. I try not to perk up at the sound of his name though, even though I want to.

“Oh yeah?” I counter, trying to be absent on purpose as I move around the kitchen.

“Mmhmm. Wanted to know if you were going to come bowling with us on Thursday.” I really look at her then, finally tearing my eyes from the scrambled eggs I’m making for dinner.

“I should probably try to pick up an extra shift,” I say instead of the ‘yes’ that I want to shout. I do want to go – I’m desperate to do something with anyone – but I really need the money in order to pay rent this month. Haymitch says we’re still on the lists and that I really should think about submitting our loan application.

“Oh come on Katniss! You know you want to go! The centre is paying for everything so it won’t cost you a dime. Just say you’ll come. Say it!” Prim shouts and hustles into the kitchen to hug me around the waist as she begs me. I can’t help but smile at her familiar actions.

“Fine, I’ll go! I’ll go!” I concede. “Let me finish the eggs in peace!”

“Ah! I can’t wait to tell Peeta tomorrow, he is going to be so excited!” I quickly look at her then, a small amount of horror on my face.

“What? You will not!” I shout, desperate to avoid the awkwardness that would come with _that_ interaction.

“I will! And he’ll be happy! Trust me Katniss, he’s a good guy! We’ve known him for almost three months now! He’s great and he loves that you’re so involved!” Prim practically sings as she dances around the kitchen with our plates as though she’s in some fairytale. I have to pause – I’ve been home for almost four months? The realization nearly knocks me on my ass.

I should be going back to school soon. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ve filed my withdrawal. There’s so many things that I’ve left untied back in Portland and it seems to kick me in the gut all at once. Prim seems to notice it too throughout dinner as she takes in my reserved behaviour.

“I’m sorry you had to come back here, Katniss,” She whispers at the end of the meal, almost to only her plate. The quiet apology nearly guts me as my head snaps up to look at her.

“Don’t you ever apologize for that. I came back here because you needed me – I’ll always help you when you need me, do you hear? You are the most important thing to me Prim – ever. _Ever_.” I reaffirm just in case she missed it the first time.

My regret isn’t about not going back – it’s about not remembering all of my responsibilities. I’ve got so much to do and I’ve forgotten all of it and now I’ll need to take a day to try to get everything in order. A day without work. And I’ve got to find somewhere with a computer and internet. Maybe a fax machine.

On top of all that, the concerns about Prim’s next appointment come barreling in like a bull in a china shop. At her next appointment she’ll be sent for more tests and more tests mean more numbers that I still don’t have a handle on. We’ll also hear how she’s responding to treatment – what if it isn’t working? – how do we adjust again? I can’t help but feel the anxiety closing in as I start to remember all of the things I need to read up on to help track her treatment.

These reminders carry me all the way through my evening shower and to my room as I pull on my pyjamas and lay in bed restlessly for an hour. My chest feels heavy with the weight of everything I need to do and I find myself tossing and turning until exhaustion finally begins to take over. I fall asleep with the thoughts racing through my head slowly disappearing and turning into dreams that haunt my waking hours.

* * *

It’s early morning when I pick up the phone to call the centre to ask for my biggest favour yet. I hang it up, chickening out, _again_. My hands shake minutely as I slide the phone along the wooden surface some more.

They’ve helped me so much since walking through their doors that I’m starting to feel bad for not giving back. I just wished I had the time – with trying to work as much as I can and taking care of Prim when I’m home, it seems like I’ve barely got enough time to sleep let alone volunteer.

That’s why when I walk in on Tuesday morning and see Johanna with her feet up on the desk I try to put on my best bargaining face.

“I’m willing to trade anything for use of a computer, some internet, and a fax machine,” I mumble as I lean on the reception desk. Johanna lets out a bark of laughter as she looks me over.

“Anything eh? Well, we’ve got a lot of folks ‘round here who’ve traded things and regretted it so let’s just call it even that you don’t make a mess that I’ll have to clean later?”

“I feel bad though that you guys help us with anything and I haven’t given anything back,” I argue and stand up a little taller. Johanna just smirks.

“Well you’ve made our afternoon receptionist a little brighter, how about that for payment?” She jokes and I scowl. I’ve done nothing of the sort.  “Look,” She tries again and leans forward. “We’re here to help. We get it that you need to work and that not everyone has time to volunteer. It’s not the business of trade we’re in so just do what you need to do and stop feeling guilty, okay? It’s wasted energy.”

I look at her carefully and measure her words, weighing them for value and honesty. She doesn’t break a smile, not once, proving that she’s at least a really good actress or telling the truth.

“Okay – where can I get settled?” I ask hesitantly and pull out a thick folder of things I need to deal with.

I spend a few hours sitting at the computer, sorting through the school’s website and trying to figure out how to postpone my next semester which only leads me to how to take online courses. I consider it but then see the price tag and refocus on trying to get out of my program. After I’ve faxed on my letter – Johanna had to hit the send button for me – I move on to settling my lease with Madge who’s come to terms with the fact that I won’t be back.

By the time I work around to settling out all of my local accounts, Johanna is about to head out the door because Peeta’s arrived for the afternoon shift.

Where normally his face is bright with mirth, today it’s so clouded that even Johanna doesn’t joke with him. When he spots me sitting at the computer over the desk, he smiles sadly and drops his stuff under the desk.

“Hey,” he mumbles and flips through the log book reading the days entries. He doesn’t say anything more before heading into the back and entering one of the offices. On his way by though, I notice that his hand is wrapped up in thick white bandages and I have to stop to think about what has happened to make his day so miserable.

I’m just about to finish with the computer when a young girl walks in and towards the reception desk. I sit up straighter and look around desperately for Peeta, completely unsure of what to do. With no one in sight, I look over and smile brightly hoping I can at least delay her until someone comes to my rescue.

“Hi, can I help you?” I ask evenly and flick my eyes down the hallway. The little girl returns my smile and shifts nervously on her feet.

“I’m supposed to meet a – “ She pauses and looks at her hand where something is scribbled in black ink. “Effie – Effie Trinket. She’s my counsellor, I think.” The girl states and I see the flush below her dark skin. With one last desperate look down the hallway, I scoot out from around the desk.

“Let me just see if I can find her,” I mumble and slip down the line of doors until I find one with the light on. Knocking quickly, I poke my head past the door to find Haymitch sitting at his desk, Peeta across from him with his head in his hands. I can’t help but feel like I’ve intruded on something private. “I’m uh – sorry, I don’t – there’s someone here looking for Effie?” I struggle to state.

“Goddamn that woman,” Haymitch growls and gets to his feet slowly. When he steps past Peeta he gently squeezes his shoulder before moving past me and towards the front office.

I stand there silently for another moment, unsure of whether to do something or apologize again for interrupting. When still Peeta doesn’t move to get up, I shift on my feet and look at my toes.

“I’m here, if you need anything,” I mumble pathetically hoping to provide any type of reassurance to this man who’s always been so kind to me. After a moment with no answer, I slip back out into the hallway and collect my bag from the front desk before heading out the door with the memory of Peeta’s sad smile burnt into my mind.

* * *

I can’t get the picture of Peeta in Haymitch’s office out of my head. It clouds my thoughts and only seems to add to my worries, mingling in with the rent that’s due and the degree that I won’t finish.

Later that night, sometime between when I burn the pasta and blow the sauce all over the microwave, I ask Prim to check in on him the next day when she returns a book. She gives me a curious look, the words poised on her tongue, but says nothing as she hands me the paper towel.

* * *

“He was fine, will you stop giving me that look now?” Prim asks, poking her head into the refrigerator and looking for food we don’t have.

“What are you talking about? What look?” I counter as I turn towards her from my place at the table.

“Uh, you know the one. It’s the same one you give me every time we go to the doctors, like you’re worried something horrendous is going to happen. You’re such a worry wart Katniss.” Hundreds of come backs come to me in that moment, defenses for my behaviour and smart words to snap back at her, but none of them seem important right now. She’s right. I do worry. I have reasons to worry.

“Okay. Fine,” I relent and turn back to the job applications I’ve sprawled across the table.

“You’re giving up?” Prim asks, her voice high with surprise as she closes the refrigerator door and swings towards me. “What’s going on? That comment should have riled you up!”

“Nothing, Duck. Just tired.” I hear her footsteps come towards me, feel her body standing behind me as she bites down on whatever snack she’s found.

“He really did look okay today; I’d tell you if he didn’t.” She says quietly and waits for my nod before patting me on the shoulder and retreating to her room.  I sit there for another hour, scrawling in my underwhelming qualifications before retiring to my own room and trying to block out everything else going on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope everyone is having a great break (if you get one). Currently we're experiencing a crazy ice storm and there might be rolling power outages but oh well! Tis the season! I hope you and yours are all well and that you enjoy this chapter. Thank you again to my lovely Opaque who is keeping me sane on writing during my 60 hour work weeks. Much love to all of you who read and review!


	6. Chapter 6

When Thursday night rolls around I’m reluctant to keep my promise about going bowling with the centre. Though Prim wants me to go, I’m nervous about seeing Peeta for the first time since I interrupted his meeting with Haymitch. Honestly, I’m not too sure he would even want me there after I barged in on whatever private moment that was happening.

But Prim won’t dare let me skip out no matter which excuse I give.

So that night I find myself tied into red and blue bowling shoes as I grip a small hand-sized ball at the top of the lane. I’m just about to let loose my ball when out of nowhere Peeta slides down the lane next to mine and let’s loose a howl and his own miniature ball. It sails down the lane, off the bumpers, and into the pins at the end. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as he gets back to his feet and grins wickedly in my direction.

“Come on Everdeen, toss the ball!” He riles and steps into my lane, stalking me until I toss it to a perfect strike. I hop around with excitement at my first real round and turn to Peeta who smirks at me as though nothing had happened. “No fair, you’ve got two working hands!” Peeta laughs and holds up his palms towards me.

“Ha, nice try Mellark but the ball only takes one hand to throw!” I reply and saunter away back to my team. I settle down onto our bench, making faces at Peeta in between joining the conversation that’s happening around our corral.

“I’m telling you, _Ghostbusters_ was a legit film and anyone who disagrees just hasn’t watched it carefully!” Thresh, a thick-rimmed glasses-wearing, 22-year-old film student with dark skin, argues aloud, tossing his hands up in exasperation.

“Wait, Thresh, _who_ exactly is telling you _Ghostbusters_ wasn’t good?” I interrupt before his hand gestures get too carried away.

“Ugh, just Marvel, the little tweaker – “

“Hey, Thresh man, come on, you know the rules,” Peeta interrupts, leaning over the bench towards Thresh as he motions to the rail-thin kid who’s wandering towards the head of our lane with his ball in hand.

“Aw, Peet – “

“No. Everyone here gets treated the same way we want to be treated. No exceptions,” Peeta insists over Thresh’s protests. Beside me, Rue, the girl I met at the reception from the other day, giggles into her palm before getting to her feet and motioning for Prim to abandon their team and join her in some type of shenanigans over in the game room.

“You’re up,” Marvel mumbles, returning to our corral and calling out to Thresh before crashing onto the bench. I catch Peeta’s eye and he gives me a look of confusion at the moment that’s just past between the group before getting up to help a frail looking girl with pale skin named Annie with her technique.

Without meaning to, I find myself watching Peeta as he jokes with the girl who can’t be much younger than us, offering her different coloured bowling ball options until she gives in and cracks a wide and beautiful smile. Observing the exchange, I can’t help but wonder what the story is there.

Or if there’s anything going on between them.

“Everdeen, you’re up!” Thresh shouts, breaking into my thoughts and thankfully distracting me from a path I don’t want to continue on. 

The rest of the game carries on with much cajoling and riling. Despite the fact that Peeta and I are clearly the oldest ones in attendance give or take a few years for some, it doesn’t seem to matter much as the kids hoot and holler their way to higher scores. When it finally comes down to it, Peeta’s team takes the win as Prim throws her third strike of the game, knocking us out by almost thirty points.

Afterwards we all pile into the centre’s unmarked van and head back for a quick bite before heading home. The drive back is loud and full of excitement as the kids in the back joke and laugh, clearly enjoying the presence of one another. It’s only when we pull into the parking lot and I’m about to slip out the passenger door that Peeta reaches over and taps my shoulder.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He asks hesitantly, withdrawing his hand and resting it between his knees under the wheel. I notice then that he rarely extends contact longer than necessary every time, often finding ways to put his hands somewhere protected.

“Yeah, sure,” I reply and slip my legs back into the van until I’m staring out at the brick wall before us. Prim casts a second glance at me, a small smile on her lips, before she heads into the centre with the rest of the kids. I’m the first to break the silence, sure that I know what’s coming. “Look – Peeta, I’m sorry I just barged in the other day. It was rude and inconsiderate and I’m sorry,” I stutter and meet his eyes, trying to plead with him silently.

I don’t expect the small smile that graces his lips or the shake of his head.

“Katniss, don’t worry about that. I was having a bad day. I did want to ask you though, if, well... If you meant it?” He seems hesitant to ask, almost as if he’s nervous I’ll say no.

“I mean what I say – I’m here if you need to talk or anything. I may not know what to say, or what _not_ to say, but sometimes I can shut up and listen,” I joke lightly and shake my head, realizing that I’m rambling. Peeta only laughs lightly and shifts in his seat until he’s looking at me.

“Want to get lunch on Monday?” He asks. I pause, considering the offer and trying to remember my schedule. I don’t see any reason why not – Peeta’s a great guy. He’s funny, kind, and refreshing to be around. Maybe I was imagining that thing with Annie?

 _Stop it, Katniss_ , I scold myself internally.  “Yeah, that sounds nice.” I answer instead, nodding my head. His smile only seems to multiply as he watches me.

“Great. That’s awesome,” he whispers and leans over, resting his uninjured hand on mine momentarily. As quick as it came, it goes, as Peeta climbs out of the van and rushes over to help me down from the high step.

The rest of the night goes quickly as the group slowly starts to disperse over the hours. When I find Prim passed out among the cushions of the couch, I nod to Peeta and say a quiet goodnight before rousing her and leading her out to the car. Her sleepiness doesn’t stop her from teasing me about my private interlude with Peeta in the van.

“He _likes_ you. Oh, he does!” Prim mumbles as I slide her into the car and head towards home. Her jibs can’t do a thing to wipe the smile from my lips.

* * *

I work most of the weekend, only taking Saturday night off to do laundry and finish up some paperwork. I try to ignore the pile of bills on the corner table as I watch the fuzzy nightly news play out before me.

When Monday finally rolls around, I’m more nervous than excited for my lunch with Peeta. I’m not really sure what it is – whether it’s a date or just two people having a meal together. Pulling up to the centre though all of my nerves seem to dissipate as I find comfort in the familiarity of place.

But lunch time comes and goes and soon it’s three in the afternoon and still no Peeta. Johanna long ago left, asking me to cover reception until Peeta got here, only he never showed up. I’m only just beginning to start to worry when Haymitch stumbles out from the back room and notices it’s me and not Peeta.

“Where’s the boy?” He slurs and leans heavily against the desk. I shake my head and shuffle the papers around.

“Not sure – he was supposed to meet me for lunch,” I admit sadly as I look out the window.

“No message?” Haymitch continues and I shake my head slowly.

“We didn’t really do the number exchange part...” I mutter lowly. Haymitch only frowns before nodding and heading back to his office with a grunt.  

At four thirty when the official closing time of the centre rolls around, Haymitch sends me home and tells me not to worry about it, something came up. I try not to take it personally but I can’t help the feeling that maybe he’s avoiding me – that maybe I’ve done something to disappoint him or that this was all a mistake in the first place.

Returning home to Prim, she hassles me from the doorway to tell her every detail, every topic of our conversation so that she can analyze it and tell me just how perfect we are for each other.

“He didn’t even show up!” I snap finally, uncharacteristically lashing out at her to ease my wounded pride. I barely see Prim’s startled gaze before I close the door to my room and lock myself away for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: You know, it's amazing the feedback I'm getting from you guys. Seriously, you make writing so worth it because your comments are wonderful and cheer me up so much. I just want to talk about everything with you (even if I can't answer your questions yet!) Also, my beta Opaque is so so so good to me. She keeps me on track and helps get the story from my jumbled mind to you guys to read, so love her too because she's working just as hard at this to make it enjoyable. Love you all, so much.


	7. Chapter 7

Prim tells me on Tuesday that Peeta’s alright. She says she knows because at the centre if they think you need a check in, someone will stop by your home and see how you’re doing.

“In fact,” Prim starts, sitting on the couch and chewing on a piece of celery and peanut butter “Haymitch went over himself on Monday night to talk to him. Told me not to worry and to let you know it didn’t have anything to do with you. And that Peeta was sorry for bailing.”

I don’t really listen, instead choosing to be disappointed and aloof for the rest of the day.

When Thursday rolls around and Prim tells me Johanna is leading the Outing Night instead of Peeta, I can’t help but perk up. For Peeta to miss that commitment I know is big since he seems to really value his time with the group. I can’t help but worry about what’s going on – about what’s happened – since I saw him in Haymitch’s office a few days ago.

It’s that same concern that drives me to the centre on Friday afternoon.

“Katniss Everdeen!” Finnick’s voice calls when I step through the main door, the bluster of wind blowing the loose hair around my face and distracting me so that he catches me off guard, “What brings you here today?”

I finally look up from myself and meet Annie’s striking green eyes as she stares at me from not a foot away.

“Can I help you with your coat?” she asks quietly, reaching her hand out. Confused, I hand it to her and try to orient myself to the situation at hand.

“I’m here to um... Talk to Haymitch,” I try, attempting to sound casual. I consider for a moment asking Finnick for the information I need, but figure it would likely come with less questions if I stick with my original plan. Before me, Finnick grins broadly as he steps towards Annie and pulls her to his chest tightly. She lets out a laugh, surprising me with its fullness and the lightness that seems to come to her with his touch.

“Really? You sure there’s nothing we can help you with?” he offers with a wink and a heaping of charm despite the way his hand slips to clasp Annie’s. The way Annie looks up at him in that moment, I can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of myself as I realize I was totally off-base at bowling last week.

“I’m sure. Just looking for – “

“Girl, I wasn’t expecting you here today...” Haymitch interrupts, stepping out from his office into the hallway. Finnick and Annie disappear into the outreach room without a word leaving me standing alone facing the slightly-intoxicated man who has the information I want.

That I _need_.

“No appointment, but I was hoping you could fit me in quickly? I was hoping you could help me out with something.” He nods and I follow him into his office, shutting the door quietly and taking a seat before rambling out the entire story in one long breath to him. “Haymitch, I just want to talk to him,” I find myself pleading, sitting in the chair across from him as he scowls at me.

“You know I can’t give out his private information like this,” Haymitch replies sounding sour. Inwardly I sigh, trying not to display my exasperation, but really I just want to ring his neck. 

“Could you call him? Or, do anything to help me? Take me there?” It’s my last ditch attempt and something, somewhere, seems to tip the scales as Haymitch sighs heavily and spins in his chair until he’s facing the wall away from me.

“Get your bag. You’re driving,” he grumbles as he pulls down his jacket and throws it on heavily. I spring to my feet, my blood pumping through my veins, thrilled that my plan has worked. Together, Haymitch and I make towards my car in silence, a weird vibe filling the air between us.

Though it’s not far from the centre, the part of town that Peeta lives in is less than desirable. It’s easy to tell by the ramshackle alleyways and the increasing levels of street life I see as we pass by. It also doesn’t help that lining every corner is a convenience store partnered with what looks to be a rundown liquor store with dirt caked into its spackle. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but I have to wonder how a teacher lives down here full time. It doesn’t seem fitting.

When Haymitch grunts announcing our arrival, I park my car and get out the driver’s side and look over at Haymitch who’s pulling himself free from the belt.

“If you’re not back in five, I’ll assume he hasn’t kicked your ass out yet and I’ll head back in a cab. If he’s pissed though, you leave. Deal?” Haymitch instructs, his hand running through his hair before scrubbing his face. I nod my agreement and turn towards the building he points out, looking it up and down carefully. After a moment, I take off, walking up the steps and to the murky bell sign on the apartment door. Checking the listings I find Peeta’s name on the top floor of the three storey high building and push my way through the propped door. Taking the stairs, I make quick time of finding the entrance to his apartment and I knock, scanning the area around me for any trace of him. After the first minute, I knock again. And then again. And again until I finally hear someone shout from the other side.

“Dammit I’m coming!” The voice calls out as footsteps move towards the heavy steel. When Peeta swings back the heavy metal and I take in the sight of his paint spattered clothes, I have to suck in a breath to keep my footing. “What are you doing here?” He asks blankly and looks around behind me before pulling me inside his apartment roughly. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

I can only stare at him uncomprehendingly as he scolds me for coming down to his neighbourhood. I want to tell him that’s silly, that it’s daylight and Haymitch brought me, but I don’t. Instead I look beyond his imposing figure to the neatly kept loft apartment that’s filled with paintings and old furniture in various states of disrepair. I’m brought out of my trance when his hand lands on my shoulder and he squeezes it lightly.

“Katniss – what are you doing here?” he asks quietly. I take in the sight of his still bandaged hand and his pale complexion.

“Are you alright? I was worried – we’re all worried – I convinced Haymitch to bring me here because I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.” I state carefully. I take his bandaged hand up in mine but he pulls it back quickly, tucking it behind him.

“I’m fine. Haymitch said I was fine, didn’t he? He shouldn’t have brought you here.” He sounds annoyed as he says it – as though people being concerned for him is tiresome. Normally I’d scoff along with him, but this time I’m the one on the worried end.

“He did, but that doesn’t explain why you’re distancing yourself. What’s going on that you can’t talk about? Why aren’t you working at the centre?” I don’t want to push him too much, but from the time I’ve met him he’s always been reliable and open – this person before me doesn’t make sense.

“I’ve had other things on my mind is all,” Peeta states and he steps back, turning to walk back to the canvas he has propped on an easel across the room. Before I can get a good look, he’s thrown a stained sheet over it as well as a few other pieces next to it. “Can I get you anything to drink?” He asks, moving into the kitchen and rinsing off his hands.

“No, I’m alright,” I reply lowly and linger in the doorway, still unsure if I should come into the apartment or not. When Peeta turns back around though, he’s watching me carefully as though trying to find a lie.

“Why are you here though? Really?” He asks again and sips at his glass of water. I wet my lips at the sight and look away momentarily, summoning my courage.

“It just seems out of character for you, to be avoiding everything like you have. I was worried, especially when you didn’t meet me for lunch. You know you can tell me anything, right?” I remind him, recalling the Thursday prior. It’s silent for a long while as he finishes his water and returns his glass to the sink.

“I’d really rather not,” he says after a while. The tone in his voice bothers me – it’s not the light one I’m used to hearing – but I know I should respect his boundaries. Besides, we haven’t known each other for that long. Maybe I’m reading this all wrong. Maybe this is just what he does from time to time. Maybe that’s why Haymitch is probably still downstairs kicking my tires waiting for me to get thrown out of here. There’s no way he needs to trust me with whatever is bothering him. What have I even done to prove that I can be there for him with his secrets?

“Okay then...” I pause and look between the door and him again. “I just – can I use your washroom quickly? I have to make a few stops before home and so…

“Yeah, no yeah, sure. It’s just around here.” He nods and motions his arm down the hallway and towards what appears to be the open area where he sleeps. I try not to gape at the wide view as I pass by but it’s hard – Peeta’s loft is tasteful and I can’t help but stare out his windows and at the intricate brick facade that is the walls. Finding my way into the bathroom, I make quick work of my needs and am standing at the sink looking for the soap when I see the cabinet overhead. Reaching up, my slick fingers pull at the edge until it slips open, shaking loose a host of prescription bottles that come tumbling out all at once.

“Shit!” I hiss and try to gather them up quickly and place them back in the cupboard. “Shit shit shit!” I try to return them properly but I don’t know where they’ve fallen from or which row they go on. I’m just about finished reading another bottle’s label when it clicks in my head.

These are ARV’s. Peeta is on an HAART plan. Peeta’s HIV positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact: I may or may not have posted chapter 8 here first... WHOOPS


	8. Chapter 8

The realization rocks me. I hadn’t assumed – I hadn’t even thought about it – not once. But then I remember where I met him and why he must volunteer there and it all seems to click into place. I try to slow my heart through the pounding in my ears, gripping my hands around the sink while I focus on how this isn’t a big deal.

How Peeta isn’t one bit different from a moment ago.

But when I close the cabinet door I notice my hands are shaking. Making my way back down the hall, I clasp my hands together and head for the door hoping to make a quick exit to give me time to settle down.

“I’m sorry – did you want to stay for a bit?” Peeta asks just as I’m rounding back towards the kitchen. He must notice the startled look on my face that I’m desperately trying to hide because, though I didn’t think it was possible, his face goes a shade paler than before.

“No, Peeta I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just barged in here. I’ll go,” I attempt hastily and step closer to the door. My hand makes contact with the cool steel just as he calls out again.

“Katniss.” There’s a tired note in his voice. I hope he doesn’t hate me for what I’ve discovered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Swinging back around I stare at him, mouth agape.

“Don’t apologize!” I shout tactlessly. Peeta frowns and sets his hands calmly on the counter, his gaze never leaving mine. “I shouldn’t have – you didn’t need to tell me. It’s your life and you would have told me when you were ready, if you wanted to. I get it – I’m just sorry I don’t-“ I gasp for a breath, struggling to get air in between my rushing thoughts. I’m not angry – I’m not really sure what I’m feeling. 

“Katniss, I can tell by the look on your face that you clearly didn’t come expecting this. Do you want to sit and talk about it?” He tries and I shake my head while my mouth utters a yes. Even my brain doesn’t know what’s going on. Peeta only smiles sadly.

“Yes,” I state more clearly. “But only if you want to. It’s fine, I can go and we can talk another time if you want to. Please don’t hate me for - “ The words falling out of me stop instantly when he walks towards me and stops within arm’s reach. Though he doesn’t touch me, I can see that his hand wants to reach out towards me.

“Katniss, it’s fine. Seriously. Let’s sit and talk, okay?” His voice is soothing now and I’m bothered by the fact that even though I came here to help him, he’s now the one coddling me all because I invaded his privacy. That doesn’t stop him though from leading me towards a beat up couch as he pulls up an old rocking chair. We sit in silence, staring at each other, until Peeta lets out a sigh. “I was a user,” he states blankly. I bite my lip and meet his eyes, holding up my hand slowly.

“You don’t have to tell me this,” I try to reassure him one last time, just in case he feels cornered. He only smiles and shakes his head.

“I used to be an addict. Used to be,” he laughs weakly and shifts. “Once you are, you are, I guess. That’s how – that’s why I’m positive.” He twists his hand about his wrist, rubbing the skin red while his eyes flicker between me and the window. I want to take his hand, to tell him that I’m listening, but I don’t. I don’t move. It’s all so much to digest that I’m trying to focus on not passing out. “I’ve been clean since my diagnosis, about five years now. I went to rehab, got on the program and started getting the treatment. My older brother Rye has pretty much been my lifeline, unlike the rest of my family. He got me help, set me up here and helps me make ends meet when money is tight. I think that’s why I admired you from the start, because you were so like him for Prim,” he adds almost wistfully as he stares out the window.

I still can’t move. Though the shock is beginning to wane, it’s just getting through my mind that Peeta is in recovery as well. Staring at him, I try to see it. My mind flickers back to visions of _Requiem for a Dream_ and Jared Leto and internally I shudder – Peeta doesn’t look like anything from that movie. His features are strong, his eyes a bright, clear blue and his complexion is smooth. Every addict I’ve seen looks jagged and a wreck – far beyond saving – but Peeta looks whole. Maybe that’s why I’m surprised? Maybe his blond curls and broad shoulders have hidden his past demons with the guise of attractiveness. I smile a bit to myself at the thought of Peeta coming into who he is now, someone who looks strong and confident and well, after his addiction and his diagnosis.

“I think I respect you even more right now,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. I don’t miss Peeta’s small frown as he looks at me again.

“What? Why?”

“I – Uh, well. When I first came into the centre, you just seemed to have it all together. And now – well, now knowing, and uh –“ I pause and try to gather my thoughts, if only to stop this annoying stuttering thing I’ve got going on right now. “You didn’t hate me for the way I reacted with the needle exchange!” I finish sharply and bite my thumb reflexively.

The memory comes rushing back to me – the way I’d recoiled and almost been ashamed to be associated with needing a needle exchange program. Peeta hadn’t even really batted an eye at my judgemental reaction even though he could have, considering everything.

Tuning back in, I see that he’s laughing lightly and is leaning forward in the rocking chair.

“I could never hate you,” he states softly after a moment, the laughing stopped. The words make my breath seem to get caught up in my chest and I have to force it out in a huff before I can meet his eyes.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say,” I add lamely and shift in my seat. Peeta rocks back and relaxes into his chair, sighing heavily.

“I was going to tell you soon, I just...wasn’t sure yet.” I nod because that’s really all I can do, unsure of what questions I can ask and what ones I shouldn’t. But then I remember why I’m here and curiosity seems to get the better of me.

“What’s happened lately, to change things, if you don’t mind me asking?” I ask quietly and sit forward on the couch until my knees are nearly touching his. Watching him, I notice his shoulders tense before he looks down at his bandaged hand with disdain.

“I got fired on Monday,” he mumbles and gets up to pace, leaving me leaning towards an empty chair.

“What! Why?” I gasp, the shock of it running through me. I know how much Peeta loves his job – I can’t imagine him doing anything to get in trouble at work. It’s just unfathomable. “I don’t get it – that doesn’t make any sense!”

Peeta moves slowly around his apartment, pacing the space like a caged animal as I rant on his behalf. I’m surprised he’s not more angry, to be honest. But then Peeta’s never been one for anger in the time I’ve known him.

When still after a moment he hasn’t told me why, I move to where he’s paused at the edge of the room, staring out the window. As soon as my hand touches his forearm he slinks back, a hard look filling his features.

“Don’t! It’s not safe!” he hisses and I recoil instinctively. The look in his eyes is far away, as if he was picturing something else entirely. Though I know he wouldn’t hurt me, I also know that I’ve forced too many private things into the open today and maybe whatever has happened is reoccurring because of me. I’m pushing his limits. Realizing this, I step back and nod, turning to leave.

“Okay – I understand. I’ll see you-“

“Katniss, wait,” he calls out, interrupting me as I stand once again with my hand on the door. His voice has changed again. The hard edge is gone and his tone is beseeching. This time he’s still near the window, the light from outside cascading around him only emphasizing the look of a fallen angel. I wish I could see his face, just to know what he’s thinking now. “I just – only Haymitch knows. I don’t want the whole centre finding out,” he adds sadly. 

A moment happens and I’m eager to run – either towards him or away, I’m not too sure – so instead I stay rooted to my spot, seemingly drawn to this man. When he finally laments the truth, my insides coil with disgust. “We were working on making stamps in class – you know the ones where you have to carve out the patterns? I was working on my example last Tuesday when I cut my hand,” he holds up his bandaged hand and smiles sadly.

“Well, I needed stitches and I made a pretty good mess of the classroom. When one of the students got another teacher to help I might have overreacted. They started to try to clean up my mess without gloves and I got so scared. I tried to get them to stop but they wouldn’t so I just – I just blurted it out.” I get it then. Nobody at Peeta’s work knew his status. They didn’t understand they needed to be careful. Or that they should always be careful, no matter whom it is.  “I guess one of the kids heard. Talked to their parents or something. There was a big meeting on Monday about it with the parents and the admin. They called me in after and told me my lack of disclosure was problematic and that the parents had serious issues with my ‘teaching methods’, I think they called it.”

I stand there dumbfounded with a roiling anger in my gut. How _dare_ they fire him for this? It’s unbelievable. It’s horrible.

And then it hits me like a wallop to the chest.

This is life after diagnosis. This is life with the social stigma of HIV.

I don’t stop myself when I have the urge to move forward, wrapping my arms around him and giving him a bone crushing hug – the ones I reserve solely for Prim. Instead I focus on keeping the angry tears at bay as I squeeze tighter around his waist.

“That’s not fair – isn’t it illegal? We can fight this Peeta – I’ll help. We’ll all help!” I repeat, mumbling into his shirt. Through my haze of frustration and my jumble of reassurances I almost miss his low laugh and the whispered words that fall from his lips.

“I didn’t think _this_ would be the reason I first got to hold you,” is all he says.

I don’t know whether to ignore it, whether I was supposed to hear it or not, so I just stay quiet and cling to him as he moves us until we’re sitting on the couch again. Finally seated, he pulls back until we’re facing off against each other on other sides of the couch. I wonder why all of a sudden he’s put this distance between us but I try to ignore it. If he wants space, that’s okay.

I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay because no matter how much I’m convinced that I subconsciously knew this, the whole shock of his status, of everything, is probably something I should have been prepared for. I guess I just wasn’t ready for how I would feel when I found out.

“Are you going to fight for your job?” I ask quietly, hesitant to bring it up since it obviously causes his emotions to rise. He shakes his head as his eyes sink to his clasped hands.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s probably for the best,” he tries lamely though I hear the note of sadness in his voice.

“What do you mean it’s for the best? You love that job – you told me so yourself.” My words come out more abruptly than I intend and I have to scold myself inwardly.

“It’s just – it’s dangerous. What if one of the kids had tried to help and I lashed out at them? Or worse, what if... What if they were exposed to it?” He finishes with a harsh whisper and I watch as he scowls angrily out the window. I’m surprised to hear these words from his mouth.

If I were to be honest, I’d say that I was likely guilty of putting Peeta up on a pedestal in terms of his openness and accepting qualities. It’s these words then that shed a shadow upon his perch and remind me that no matter how good he is, he still must face his own personal demons on the virus as well. Like so many others I’ve read about, or heard Prim talk about, Peeta is dealing with the acceptance of his illness and will always be dealing with it.

“That isn’t going to happen,” I reassure him, leaning forward and placing my hand upon his foot. He withdraws it gently, his eyes averted. “Why do you do that?” I prompt, my words cautious again. His eyes don’t meet mine when his shoulders lift in a non-responsive shrug at the question. I have to leave it alone, at least for today.

Together we sit there quietly, time passing steadily as we both let our minds process the day’s events. Neither of us push for more words, comfortable in the silence between us. When the sun finally begins to sink low in the sky, I meet his gaze and offer a small smile.

“I guess I should get going,” I mumble. Shifting and letting my feet hit the ground, I stretch my arms up and groan with the change in position. Peeta follows me to the door and I hear an audible yawn escape from him. “I’m sorry I just barged over here. I just wanted to mean what I said about being here if you needed anything,” I apologize as my hand lingers on the door. I feel Peeta pull the door open further and hear the audible sounds of him slipping his shoes on. Turning to him, I frown in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m walking you to your car. It’s a dangerous neighbourhood, especially at night,” he replies and shuffles until we’re both outside his apartment and he’s locking his door.

Together we walk down the stairs and towards my car in relative silence, our minds pre-occupied and no Haymitch in sight. When we reach my car I walk to the driver’s side only to be surprised when Peeta’s bandaged hand holds it closed as I try to open it. I look up at him, brow furrowed.

“Look, Katniss, I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass today and all this week, really. I just, I don’t really know what I’m going to do yet. I just – I know that – “ I listen as he grumbles and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Without thinking better of it, I reach out and rest my hand over his and squeeze. To my surprise and his as well it seems, he doesn’t shake me off but instead pulls my palm to his cheek. “I know that I’m glad you came by today. Even if I didn’t act like it.”

I think I blink at his actions, too surprised to get out a sentence. We must stand there for a while though before someone down the street from us makes a cat call and has me startled back to reality.

“Peeta, I meant it when I said I’m here, okay? Come back to the centre and we’ll help you – isn’t that what you said that place is there for?” I joke lightly. I know I need to withdraw my hand at some point in order to get in my car, but I can’t help the way I revel in the feeling of my fingers pressed to his stubbled cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and at last let’s my hand drop, his own pulling open the door and ushering me into my car. “See you later,” he adds, bending at the waist and leaning towards me as I sit in the driver’s seat. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me – that he’s going to press those lips to mine and make a move - but he doesn’t. Seeming to think better of it he grins and pulls back, shutting the door gently and tapping the roof with his goodbye.

As I drive off down the street I glance in the rear view mirror, catching him standing in the road and watching me drive away with a small smile lifting the corner of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, fun fact: I've actually been in informal quarentine these last two days for a gastro thing. It's been horrible. And by horrible, I mean gross with a touch of all the napping I can get. You should give me a virtual high five since I finally kept some crackers in me today! Hurray! Anyways, I'm posting this up because life is crazy and the bump in my ego I got from Opaque today was very much a highlight. Hope you enjoy. Much love, lollercakes


	9. Chapter 9

I get my first collections call on Monday. The woman on the other end is rude and abrupt, threatening me with legal action if I don’t get my payment into them by the end of the week. I try to remain calm, promising her that I’ll work something out, but when I click the ‘end’ button I have to leave my station and end up hiding out in the washroom for twenty minutes while I try not to cry.

At lunch I call up Haymitch directly, hoping to at least get his voicemail before being forwarded to the main desk where Peeta might be working today if he’s back at the center like I hope. The phone rings four times before Peeta’s voice fills the line and I stutter before clicking the ‘end’ button again.

It isn’t that I don’t want to talk to him – I’m glad he’s back and I actually _really_ want to speak to him – it’s just that I don’t want him to know _why_ I’m calling looking for Haymitch in the middle of the day. The fact that we’re drowning in medical bills is embarrassing and I don’t want him to know that.

When my phone rings five minutes later though, I stare down at the familiar number and suck in a breath before picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey Katniss, it’s Peeta – look, I feel weird asking – but did you just hang up on me?” Peeta laughs on the other end of the line, his tone light and friendly and so different from the week before.

“Ugh – yes, how did you know?” I ask with a huff of breath knowing I can’t be bothered to lie.

“Prim may or may not have given me your number at bowling. I haven’t had the guts to call you yet though, so I’m sorry about that. I guess I can get over that now a little...” He laughs lightly, the strain in his voice evident at his admission. “Alright – “ he clears his throat – “What can we do for you?”

“Well,” I start, promising to speak to Prim later about this. And maybe get Peeta’s number sometime too. “I was trying to reach Haymitch, actually, but he always puts his forward to the desk instead of his voicemail.”

“Oh, he’s out on an extended lunch. Is there something I can help with? I mean, I guess I can now say I’ve been around the bend a few times...” At his words I feel my shoulders tense up minutely and I have to bite my lip.

“No – uh, no, it’s okay. Can you just let him know I called please?” On the other end I hear him shuffle some papers before he reads the note he’s writing out aloud.

“Sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s great. Hey – you’re back at the center, how’s that going?” I try to distract him, secretly hoping he’ll take the bait while also shooting a glance towards the clock on my desk noting I still have a few minutes left to kill before my lunch break is over.

“It’s good. I’m glad I came back; it’s helping me keep busy instead of being lame in my apartment all day. Plus, Finnick is practicing for his annual ‘Safe Booty’ chat and that’s always entertaining. How are you doing?”

“Oh you know, working for the man, makin’ the money honey.” I try not to snort at my own embarrassing phrasing as my cheeks burn. “What’s this ‘Safe Booty’ thing? Do I need to be worried?” He laughs and clears his throat, my shoulders instantly relaxing at the sound.

“It’s the biggest safe sex night of the year. Finnick likes to really get into the pirate theme with it so we call it the ‘Safe Booty’. You should stop by for it – plenty of things to learn and you might get a laugh out of it at least. Him and Annie are ‘sexperts’, I guess. On a side note, do you, uh, maybe want to make up for that lunch I bailed on?” he asks tentatively. I can hear the nervousness in his voice and I can’t help but smile.

“I’d really like that. I need to get back to work right now but I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” I add, hoping he believes me when I say I need to get back to work and not that I’m trying to avoid him or more conversations about ‘Safe Booty’.

“Alright, got it. Have a good afternoon and I’ll let Haymitch know you were looking for him.”

With that, the phone clicks dead and I slump into my chair, staring at my computer screen and the files I need to deal with this afternoon while trying not to get distracted by the ideas of sex that have seemingly wormed their way into my consciousness.

:::

“Katniss? Katniss Everdeen?” The familiar voice washes over me as I leave the centre Wednesday morning before my shift. I’d stopped by in hopes of catching Haymitch who still hasn’t returned my call. Turning, I catch sight of our landlord Alma Coin, a nosy woman who’s always felt the need to pry into our lives since Mum left.

“Mrs Coin, how are you?” I greet falsely, my smile tight.

“Oh, dear, I’m fine. I guess I should be asking you the same – how are _you_ doing? I hope you’re not fraternizing with the likes of _those_ people,” she eyes me carefully, her gaze flicking between myself and the centre behind me. The look she gives me makes my skin crawl and I suddenly feel the need to get out of here quickly.

“I’m good – but you’ll have to excuse me I need to get to work.” I move to leave, barely concealing my anger at her reference to the centre, but feel her hand on my shoulder gripping tightly before quickly falling away.

“Katniss, is there – “ She tries but I cut her off.

“Sorry Mrs Coin, I really need to be getting to work!”

“Yes, of course. Rent is due this week so I won’t get in your way.”

Her words haunt me all the way to work. I’d forgotten about rent, too caught up in making the collector payment. The day seems to creep by slowly, my temp job not keeping my mind fully occupied against the barrage of worries that are plaguing me.

I spend my lunch looking at new apartments online, desperate to find somewhere with two bedrooms at a more affordable price. The city seems to come up with very few choices, the rooms are staggeringly small and overpriced or in the subsidized housing category that I still don’t have access to. The whole thing leaves me frustrated, bitter and exceedingly more anxious as the day wears on.

When I get home later that evening Prim is already home scrambling some eggs and burning toast for dinner. She smiles at me brightly though I make note of how her colour is slightly off.

“You feeling okay Ducky?” I call, dropping my shoes next to the door and then moving towards the small kitchen table.

“Just tired is all. How about you? How was your day?” She hands me a plate of toast and scoops some eggs onto it, turning back to wash her hands for probably the hundredth time today as she follows doctors orders. Biting my lip, I hesitate to say more, nervous about pushing her to remember what Cinna said about getting her immune system back on track by exercising and eating better. I don’t want to stress her, not really, I just want to help her keep track of the hundreds of little things she now has to work on. But in my head the words never come out right.

I know she’s been going to the centre often, getting counselling from Effie about adjustment strategies and the like. She’s also tried to start running, though half the time she tells me it turns into taking walks because she still feels a little ‘rough around the edges’. I admire her dedication to getting well and her strength to keep moving, but I can’t dismiss the fact that she’s struggling to eat properly since I can barely afford vegetables to go on the table.

The _last_ thing I want to do is stress her out by adding money issues into her growing list of changes or make her feel like she’s not doing enough. She is, she does, when she wakes up every morning and continues to be _Prim_.

Putting those thoughts to the back of my mind I slip into my chair and try to settle the tension in my shoulders. The day has been long and stressful and I’m ready to just pack it in and go to bed early but the stack of mail on the coffee table needs to be taken care of first.

The thought of it makes the butterflies of anxiety flutter in my stomach and I know I won’t be able to eat my dinner if I don’t tell Prim what’s going on.

I can’t hide this from her anymore.

“Um, okay. Prim – “ I waver, picking at my bread nervously. Joining me at the table her smile tightens at my hesitation. “I think we need to find another apartment.” It blurts out of me in a rush, my cheeks flaming with shame.

For a long while, we sit in silence and eat our meal. Neither of us broaches the topic until we’re clearing the table of dirty dishes.

“I’m sorry,” I start slowly. Prim catches my free hand and grips it hard as I add soap to the dishwater.

“You don’t have to apologize, Katniss. I know you’re trying and I’m the one who should be apologizing – I’m sorry for everything. I should be getting a job now that I’m starting to feel better. Or I should be trying to contribute somehow because this isn’t fair for you. You came back here to this stupid mess that I created and now everything has stopped for you – all your schooling and how hard you worked to get free of this place and now you’re suffering all because of me. I feel so stupid and horrible. If I’d just been smarter about things, if I’d – “

“Stop it, Prim!” I order, setting the soap down harshly on the counter forcing little bubbles into the air. I can’t look at her, not while whimpers are escaping her and reminding me that this is all too much stress for her right now. She shouldn’t have to deal with this – all she needs to focus on is getting her white blood cell numbers up and getting the virus under control. “Don’t worry about it – I’ll make it work. I promise. I just wanted to let you know where we stand, alright? You don’t need to get a job – I’ll handle it.”

“Katniss, please don’t keep this all inside. How bad is it really? You can’t do it alone - let me do something at least.” Her arms wrap around me tightly, squeezing my waist. “I love you so much. I don’t want to be something you come to hate because of this.” Her tears begin to soak my shirt as she clings to me, voicing her fears that I’ll hate her, or worse, be like Mum and abandon her. Instinctively, my arms come to wrap tightly around her, my hands holding her to me. I can’t bear the thought of her thinking like this – that I’ll leave or even hate her.

Flashing back to the first year after Mum left I shudder. Prim was a wreck, her grades slipping and the light fading from her eyes as we struggled month after month. When I finally confronted her over a pack of cigarettes I found in her bag one day she broke down, her mouth spilling forth the secrets she’d kept inside about how she believed Mum had left because of her and how she wasn’t good enough to be loved. It had broken my heart, through and through, and we’d cried together for the mother that had left us.

Now that feeling was back, I was sure of it, and Prim was once again feeling the brunt of Mum’s abandonment.

“I won’t ever leave you. I promise times a thousand. But maybe you need to talk to Effie about this – remember how bad it got before? I don’t want you to feel like that again. Okay?” I soothe calmly, trying to remind her that I’m here but so ill-equipped to deal with this real issue. Before, we had no option and I _had_ to be her person. Now she can reach out to someone who knows more and can really help her through this. At least I hope that’s how it works. “Just, let me take care of the money thing for now, alright? If it gets really bad, then we’ll deal with it. But for now, we’re okay.” Trying to reassure her I rub her back soothingly, listening for the decrease in her gasps of breath and the calmness that seems to bloom within her.

“Will you tell me before it gets too bad?” she whispers quietly after a moment. I nod my head, my hands pulling her back away from me so that I can meet her red-rimmed eyes.

“I will. We’re in this together, alright?” Nodding, she sucks in a deep breath and forces a smile to her lips.

“I can at least do the dishes then. You go lay down, you look like shit,” she laughs, shooing me from the kitchen. I don’t fight it, instead picking up the mail and retreating to my room to read it in private.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're not following me on Tumblr, or if you missed it, you probably didn't get the memo that I'm off work for the next while. This means I'm basically going to be doing... something that I haven't figured out yet. But there's a good possibility it will involve writing and setting up my desk as an actual writing space. I hope this means good things for us both, if you want to come find me I'm lollercakesff on Tumblr. Come join, we can be friends.


	10. Chapter 10

"Katniss, there's only one room," Prim states carefully, coming back from the hallway of the small apartment we are touring. I'd decided after meeting with Haymitch a week ago about our financial situation that the move had to be made immediately.

The meeting hadn't been positive. Haymitch had maintained that we were still on the lists that we needed to be on but it wasn't uncommon for these things to take time.

" _Are you sure there's no other way for you to get funding, Katniss? It won't be four months before Prim's ARVs start breaking the bank – with an income just under three-thousand a month and the cost at 1.5 thousand for the pills you're going to run out of cash or have to trade in something," Haymitch reminds me again, sitting back in his creaking chair and wrapping his hands across his stomach. I dig my toe into the floor, hesitant._

" _Remember the school money?" I ask with my eyes on the floor. Haymitch grunts in acknowledgement. We've been here before – the first time we'd met to talk about finances he'd suggested we use the money first to handle the transition. I'd told him that it was absolutely not an option and that we needed to find another way so that Prim would be able to go to school worry-free when we were settled. "I think we need to use it."_

" _Are you sure?" He asks and leans forward in his chair. I nod my head slowly. "It won't be enough in the long run. You know that, right?"I nod again and grip my knees._

" _We'll use it when we need it. There's not much left anyways, maybe ten. We still need to make some real changes," I admit._

" _You will. You need to do what you have to do to stay alive."_

The meeting had finished with a new budget being drawn up with Haymitch's help and a few suggestions on how to shop more efficiently for nutritious food so that we weren't eating eggs every day. Afterwards, I'd returned home and quickly paid our last rent, giving notice to Coin who hadn't even blinked at me.

"I knew something was going on with you and yours, Everdeen," she scowled, lifting a brow. "The day I saw you at _that place_ I knew something was up. Good – I'll waive the sixty day notice as long as you take your filth elsewhere and save me the trouble of an eviction."

Furious, I opened my mouth to lay into her about her discriminatory words but she simply closed the door in my face with a swift crack. I jumped, surprised and jarred by her behaviour, breathing heavily to try and calm myself down before heading back upstairs.

Now we are out hunting, my off hours filled with appointments to look at places that are cheap as dirt but still close enough that I can get to work without my car.

I'd had to sell that too, to pay off the first round of collections and catch up on my bills. It had been hard – that car had been the one part of my life that had been reliable and easy – but it would have happened eventually.

In fact, the only upside of my month had been being able to put a hold on my student loan payments and even have them reduced a little through government applications. Finally some of that paperwork had come through on my behalf and helped us out.

It wasn't enough though, not to keep on going.

So now here we stand, touring small apartments where we can make it work through sheer determination and by the skin of our teeth. Today's stop is in the rougher part of town, not too far from Peeta's apartment. A one bedroom place with a large enough main room and kitchen that I can setup a privacy blind with a pull out couch for myself.

Most importantly, it would cut our rent payments significantly and the landlord doesn't seem too involved in his tenants like nosy Coin had been.

"Security deposit and first are due – if you don't damage the place when you leave it counts as the last payment. No pets, no drugs. Them's the rules. How about it?" the man asks gruffly, his thick hands scratching at his patchy beard. I try to ignore the stained undershirt he wears and the faint smell of sweat that clings to him.

"I think we'll take it," I reply simply, clenching my hands together anxiously.

The apartment is far from perfect. A single bedroom and a tiny bathroom without a tub, it barely fits one person let alone two, but I know that we need to save desperately on rent if we are going to get ahead on any payments. With that in mind, I turn a blind eye to the chipped paint and the less than clean kitchen and sign the lease agreement with Prim nervously clucking over my shoulder.

"See you around, little lady," he mumbles and hands us a set of keys with our apartment number on it.

"Welcome home," skitters past my lips as I smile tightly. Knowing me too well, Prim pulls me tight against her and reassures me that we will get through this. I nod hazily into her shoulder and hold back my tears.

"We'll just have to get some plant life in here," she adds once I finally pull away. The laugh sputters out of me and I nod before looking around once more.

This is it. This is the next few years of our lives as we struggle to get things under control. I'd never thought this would be what I was doing with my life – moving into terrible housing and struggling to pay my bills. I'd been here before, after mom left, but I'd worked so hard – _we'd_ worked so hard – to get out of that situation. And now here we are again, back on the bottom rung and barely hanging on.

"Who's going to help us move?" Prim asks as we make our way down the flights of stairs to the street. In all honesty I hadn't really even thought of it before but now the idea just annoys me. We have furniture to move, bed frames and dressers, and I have to get a pull-out couch from somewhere. Prim won't be much help – her energy levels were still too unpredictable to be moving heavy objects.

I can't help the sigh that escapes me at the realization that this is just another barrier we have to overcome.

:::

"Are you kidding me? What the hell _is_ this?" Johanna barks out a laugh, her hand withdrawing from a box holding a life-sized version of a purple duck. Around me, Prim begins to giggle and Gale lets forth a snort.

Prim has been amazing throughout the move, using her charm to talk people into helping or letting us borrow stuff for moving on our last day of the lease. We'd decided to hold out until the last minute, enjoying the two bedroom apartment for as long as we could before we had to leave. She'd even talked Gale into helping us despite how he and I still barely spoke since I'd come back from out west.

"That's Katniss'!" Prim shouts, setting down her own box and flopping onto the pull-out couch we'd traded in for at the centre. "I made it for her in my 8th grade in art class."

"Why do you still even have that?" Gale asks as he takes it from Johanna's grip and marvels at the ugly duck. He waves it playfully in her face, quacking noises erupting from him as Johanna pushes him away lightly.

"Get lost, Hawthorne," she crows. The moment seems familiar, playful and light, so different from the Gale I remember from before my move out west. I can't help but wonder what's going on, if anything, between these two and how I missed it before. Frowning, I yank the duck from his hands and hold it to my chest protectively.

"It's important to me, don't mock it," I sigh and turn into the kitchen to hide. This whole week has been stressful, packing and carrying everything, getting a rental truck and finding new furniture that will fit in the new place, not to mention selling off all of the stuff we couldn't bring. It wasn't even five o'clock yet and though Finnick and Annie had already left, I was tired and looking forward to this all being over so I could get some much needed sleep.

"I think it's sweet that you kept it," a smooth voice states from the doorway. Immediately my skin grows hot as I move to face Peeta's wide grin. "I wish I had something my brothers made me to hold on to. But, it probably would have been a phallic symbol or something."

The laughter bubbles out of me instinctively, my scowl disappearing. He always seems to make me do that, I think to myself fondly.

"Thanks. It's so ugly though, I could have easily ditched it and she'd never have known," I joke and set it on the counter as Peeta joins me.

"You could have, sure, but doesn't everyone need a hideous duck to keep them company?" He pauses, looking back out to the front room where Gale and Johanna are digging through more mementos and laughing about them. "They're really getting on well, aren't they?" We both turn to watch our friends interact, their hands playful as they bat at each other.

"Yeah, looks that way," I agree as I purse my lips, unsure of how I feel about the two of them together.

"Want me to order the pizza? I think everyone out there is getting a bit hungry now..." Peeta starts, breaking into my thoughts and thankfully changing the subject as though he can sense my discomfort at the thought. I nod and head towards a set of boxes where I swore I'd packed my wallet. Thankfully, it isn't too far down and I pull it out easily, handing him the cash. Smiling, he waves it off while still talking into his phone and repeating back his credit card details for payment.

"I was going to pay for it," I note indignantly once he's hung up. I could have afforded it, hell, that's how they'd been lured over here to help us move in the first place' I was sure of it. So what if I'd had to work a few extra hours to make it happen?

"Don't worry about it Katniss, I got it. Consider it a housewarming gift if you have to." His smile forces one of my own to my lips and I relent, thankful that I can use that money for groceries this week instead. "Now, how about we go and try to clear off something to eat on before Johanna starts digging through your clothes boxes?" Reaching out his hand, I take it lightly and follow him back into the front room. The moment seems surreal, my skin touching his without any hesitancy or restraint. It seems so _normal_ , so unlike him.

So amazing.

"Pizza is on its way, fiends. Now, mission 'locate dining table' must commence and then we're home free," Peeta calls to the room, taking command and setting everyone in motion. It doesn't take long before many of the boxes are moved, not only off the table, but placed in their respective areas for Prim and I to unpack later. The quickness of it surprises me, but then I remember that we don't have many things to our name anymore.

When the food arrives a little while later and we all settle down to eat, I make a point to thank everyone for their help. Around the table Johanna laughs into her slice while Gale tells me not to mention it but I know I can't thank them enough. Without their help this would have been a monstrous task and I know I can't handle the stress right now.

Nibbling at the edge of my piece, I ignore the anxiety that bubbles in my gut from the weeks that lay ahead. In no time I would be looking at bills again, possibly collectors, with no end in sight.

I didn't have the stomach to eat anymore.

"Hey – you okay?" Peeta asks me softly, breaking into my thoughts. It's then I realize he must have been watching me without my notice. I smile slightly, likely more of a grimace, and nod.

"I'm good. No worries," I reply. Peeta grips my shoulder quickly, a sign of quiet support, before turning back to his conversation with Prim. Across the table I catch sight of Gale's gaze on me, his eyebrow cocked as he half pretends to listen to Johanna's boisterous words.

He knows I'm faking my smile. Giving me a small nod, he turns back to Johanna and the moment passes leaving me to pick at my pizza alone.

"Alright my pretties," Johanna breaks into my thoughts a few minutes later. "I've got other plans that don't involve lugging shit around so I'm going to head out. Cool?" she asks, moving abruptly from the table with a second slice already halfway down her throat. Peeta gives a wave and Gale surprises me by getting to his feet as well.

"I'm going to head out too, got some things to sort out at home before tomorrow. See you two in a few and call if you need anything?" I nod in his direction, acknowledging that I'll call him if I need to, and watch as they both pull on their coats, casually joking about something under their breaths until the door closes behind them leaving my stomach to turn uncertainly.

"Well, looks like someone is getting some tonight," Prim pipes up a moment later, hiding her face in her slice.

"Excuse _me_?" the confusion and surprise at her words springing forth from me while Peeta tries to cover a sputtering laugh beside me. It doesn't work and soon they're laughing into their food and trying not to make jokes about Gale and Johanna hooking up.

I try to laugh too, but the idea of it only adds to what I'm feeling and it sits on me like a rock for the rest of dinner.

Later, after Prim retreats to her room to begin unpacking, Peeta and I find ourselves sitting on opposite ends of the old couch looking out over the scattered boxes that now make up my bedroom.

"You know, maybe they'd be good together?" Peeta starts, breaking the quiet that surrounds us. I shoot him a look, my eyebrows furrowed as he brings the joking from earlier back with a touch more sincerity. "I mean, Jo has had it hard these last few years. Gale could be good for her, give her something to mess around with and keep her busy. I've met him a couple times when he's come to get Prim at the centre, he seems nice enough and god knows Jo could use someone with a brain for a change."

"Prim brought him to Posi+ive?" I ask carefully, the news coming as a surprise. I hadn't realized Gale had been involved that much in Prim's life. I didn't realize I cared, until now.

"Yeah, they go out for lunch sometimes I guess. I think Jo went with them last week? I don't know – I'm usually going when they're coming in but it seems like there might be something there," Peeta adds, his eyes watching me as though he can sense the spinning thoughts in my head. I don't know whether I'm upset because Gale is spending time with Prim and no one told me or if it's because I didn't know any of this at all. It hadn't even occurred to me, not even when everyone had seemed to get along so well all afternoon without any prompting – I hadn't even realized how strange that was until now. Wrapping my hands in my lap I frown, my lips pursed before the first thing that comes to my spills from my lips.

"But, how does that work if she's positive and he's not? They can't just roll into bed-it's not safe and – " My mouth snaps shut as the horrible words spill past my lips, so much worse now that I realize what I've just said and how they voice something hurtful and alienating. They're the same ones I'd feared spilling forth the first time Prim had brought up sex a few months ago. They'd come again before I'd thought them through, an instinctive reaction to my discomfort about Gale and before I'd really even considered my assumptions and how – oh god. I feel my cheeks blaze and when I meet Peeta's gaze I realize he's frowning deeply.

"I'm sorry – would you like to finish that sentence or should I just go now?" he asks after a moment, lips tight and his expression a clear sign of hurt. No words come to me – nothing that could salvage me right now. I'd basically claimed that whatever we are doing – whatever Peeta and I are edging at – is impossible. That people with HIV could never be in relationships with anyone else.

I hate myself in this moment.

"I think it's best I go." Another moment passes and Peeta gets to his feet, stepping quickly towards the table to grab his jacket and make a getaway.

"Peeta wait!" I gasp, shooting up from the couch. "I didn't mean that – I didn't – I'm sorry! It came out wrong!"

"Wrong? Katniss, it came out _wrong_?" He turns to me then, pulling on his coat with unnecessary force. "I know you're new to this, but Jesus Katniss do you even realize what you just said?" My mouth moves but nothing comes out.

I _know_ it's wrong – but how do I save this? I don't – I don't even know what to do.

"I'm sorry! What more can I say?" I try weakly while he slips on his shoes.

"You can try to not make assumptions about people, Katniss, and about what choices they want to make for themselves." Pulling open the door he steps into the hallway and pauses, surprising me by turning back to face me. "And Jo isn't even positive. She works at Posi+ive because her sister went there a long time ago."

With that unsettling truth sealing my judgement in Peeta's eyes, he closes the door with a snap and disappears. I stand there shocked, appalled at myself and the way I've casually made a good afternoon into a nightmare. I couldn't have made it worse – not with whatever we were doing or whatever the cards had ahead for us.

But then, with what I'd said, with the implication that I believed HIV positive people should never be with non-infected people, I'd voiced something that I must be feeling or else I wouldn't have said it. Would I have? Do I believe that? What is wrong with me?

Rubbing my face with my hands anxiously I try to figure out the tangled web in my mind.

"You know, the walls are pretty thin here." Prim's voice startles me and I turn, my arms instinctively wrapping around my middle. Her posture is closed, her face hard, as she stares me down. I know in that moment that she heard me and that she too believes what I've said.

"Prim," I try weakly, stepping towards her. She steps back and shakes her head, looking anywhere but at me as I recognize the frustrated tears blossoming on her cheeks.

"You don't need to say it. I get it." Moving back into her room, I watch her own door slam without another word said.

I don't know how long I stand in the middle of our new horrible apartment, trying not to cry as I realize I've burned two very strong bridges in a matter of moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's kind of a funny story how incapable I am of getting things done when I have nothing to do. I'm absolutely the worst at it and apparently I'll now be off until at least mid-May. This definitely is stressing me out more but I'm going to try to focus on the things I like like writing, so hey, here's hoping. Thank you to all you lovely people who keep reading and reviewing and just stopping by, I love you guys.


	11. Chapter 11

I spend the next week getting the silent treatment from Prim who mostly hides out in her room when I'm home. I don't go to the centre, too afraid of what might happen if I were to run into Peeta face to face.

We haven't talked since I shoved my foot down my throat and it's killing me inside.

Whenever I'm not at work and not expected home, I've slipped over to the library to read up on what I now know are 'magnetic relationships'. The information I've found online has opened my mind to the possibilities out there and increased my awareness of what I _knew_ was possible, but had misjudged before without even realizing.

Before, I'd been stuck in the stigmatized fear that the 1980s had bled into the world with the onset of AIDS. Despite what Cinna had been saying to Prim and I, I hadn't really thought the future could be bright. For me, my nightmares involved Prim lying with lesions all over her body in a hospital bed, fading away like Tom Hanks in _Philadelphia_. And while sometimes my nightmares still featured that image, I knew logically it wasn't likely for her. People with HIV now lived longer, healthier lives than ever before and Prim would have that or so help me...

My reading had also greatly informed me on the transmission of HIV that I hadn't truly understood before. In all honesty I'd thought sex with an HIV positive person would be like walking into fire; a person was bound to get burned. The night I'd made those awful comments, I had not only been expressing my difficulties seeing Gale with someone else, but I'd also been certain he was putting himself in harm's way and that hadn't sat right for my childhood friend. Now I know better – with undetectable viral counts and proper safety measures, sex is really not high risk at all. Even when people have high viral counts, though this increases the risk of transmission, it still doesn't guarantee anything. Before I'd just been so blind, not even considering the options, not really.

I'd also sorely passed judgement on Johanna that night, assuming her to be infected while not even bothering to really get to know her. Across the board I'd let my fears guide me into a bumbling, hurtful mess of words. Regret was a bitter taste in my mouth.

I just wish it hadn't taken me this long to make the connections for what I'd been thinking.

Now as I sit at the table by myself, chewing mindlessly on the spaghetti that was waiting for me when I came home, I find myself staring at the peeling paint on the wall and thinking over what I'd read earlier that day about the physical side of magnetic relationships. How people with mixed status move their relationships to the next level and become intimate.

I would be lying if I said the idea of it wasn't foreign. Hell, Peeta and I hadn't even made it out to dinner – how could I possibly be thinking about _sex_ at all?

"He barely even lets me _touch_ him..." I mutter to myself, stabbing at the plate with annoyance as I recall the way he often withdraws from physical contact.

It's only when I'm washing up the dishes that it finally clicks in my head. If I don't want something _more_ from Peeta, then what was I even doing _thinking_ about him?

I need to fix this. I need to apologize and _make_ him listen to me. He has to know that I _am_ trying and that I just didn't understand before.

He needed to know I didn't think he was a person any less worthy of love than anyone else.

He needed to know I cared. Even if I couldn't put it into proper words.

Wiping the plates clean with a raggedy towel I dry the dishes and put them away with a clang. Without losing steam, I hustle to my 'room' and push back the privacy curtains I'd hung, pulling on my shoes and grabbing my bag before heading to the door. Yanking it open, I'm caught off guard when my body slams into something solid in front of me, forcing me back a few steps in surprise.

"Woah there," the familiar voice startles, steadying me. I look up to meet Peeta's blue eyes, his expression solemn. "Is this, uh, a bad time?"

My mouth goes dry, words impossible to put together.

"I can come back later. Or, not at all if you prefer. I thought maybe though that um, we should talk? Because of Prim," he adds quickly at the end, as though he needs a reason. I nod my head and step back, allowing him to come into the apartment after me and close the door quietly.

"It's okay. I was just coming to... Nevermind. Look Peeta, I'm – "

"I'm sorry!" he blurts out, interrupting me.

 _What_? My mind spins and I frown.

"Why are _you_ apologizing? _I_ should be apologizing!" I shout reactively, dropping my bag to the ground with a thump.

"No, you don't need to. I get it. You aren't into this and that's okay – I was wrong to assume and react like I did. You don't owe me anything and I wanted to clear the air so that you and Prim can keep coming to Posi+ive without worrying about things. I didn't –"

"Peeta stop!" I blurt, grabbing one of his hands that seems to be flailing about as he rambles on his apology. I try to narrow in on what I want to say first – what I need to address when there are so many things wrong with what he's just said – but I struggle to put it all together without stopping to take a breath.

"Katniss, I'm sorry," he tries again, surprisingly not letting my hand drop as I expect.

"Let's just… take a seat okay?" I offer, pulling out a chair at the table and sliding into it with my hand still awkwardly in his. He joins me seated at the table after a momentary pause, his gaze skirting around the small room before landing solidly on me. "Peeta, I really screwed up the other night. First with thinking what I did about Johanna- and I guess everyone at the centre by default- I was so wrong. I shouldn't have assumed that about her or anyone else, so I'm sorry for that. I'm also really sorry because I black balled something I didn't really understand and I feel terrible about it. I know better now – I've been reading and I think I get it. How it works I mean. I just – I didn't know and I'm sorry if I made you feel like there was something wrong with you or that you are less than anyone else for whatever reason. I never meant to hurt you, or to judge you or Johanna or even Gale. I was being stupid and not thinking about what I was saying. And, I think maybe I was a little hurt that I didn't know how involved Gale was in Prim's life… We have, uh, history..." I mention it awkwardly, my voice unsure and my gaze just over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Prim has mentioned it once or twice. Are you, uh…"

"No!" I shout aloud at the suggestion, waving my hands as I try to speak. "No, I mean, I miss Gale and our friendship, but it's not like _that_ for us anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. I think I just missed how we were and maybe that was part of how I reacted. I don't know – honestly, Peeta, I wanted to apologize to you because, I think, you're important to me? Since coming to the centre you've kind of been the one friend I've met that puts a sane face on all the crazy that this all is. I don't want to lose that."

Frowning, Peeta stares me down, my hands back in his while his thumb absently runs over my knuckles. I can't make out his expression, whether he accepts my apology or not. Or if my jumble of words even makes sense to him. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't get it, or worse, if he doesn't forgive me. I try to remember to keep breathing as I anchor myself in his rare touch.

"Apology accepted," he murmurs after a moment. Letting out a sigh of relief, I place my other hand over our interlinked fingers and hold tightly as I brace myself for what I'm about to say.

"I was actually, you know, just coming over to apologize to you." I state again hesitatingly. I don't know really how to broach what should be said. I'd hoped that when I met him there would be a lot more discussion about how terrible and wrong I was, or maybe I'd thought he would hold it against me still.

"Oh?" He prompts, forcing me to notice I've been tangled in my mind for a moment too long.

 _Now or never_.

"I wanted to say that I was reading up on um-magnetic relationships- and stuff and I thought, maybe we could talk about it sometime? Or maybe, I don't know, you could help me understand it better? I don't totally get how all of it really works apart from what I've read and – I don't know – it all seems so much more medical than I need to understand. I just need some help with the human side of it." Blurting out the confusing string of words I pull my hands away and cover my face as my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

Did I just ask him to explain the human side of sex to me? Oh _no._ I've never been good with words.

He's taking too long to answer.

I could possibly die from all the blood rushing to my face right now. I can't believe -

His fingers pull my hands away until they're held tightly in his and I'm forced to meet his eyes, surprise blanketing my features. I stare nervously at him, desperate for whatever thoughts are running through his head.

"Katniss, I think I understand. If that's what you want, I would love that. I really would like to see more of you, since I just like being around you. I haven't – I haven't done or um... Been in a relationship – er..." He pauses, lost for words and struggling to put them together. "Katniss, I like you. I want to uh, get to know you better. But you need to know I haven't been in a relationship since my diagnosis and there are things that I still struggle with."

"Oh, uh, well, we don't – "

"No, we don't have to do anything like that – maybe no labels for now," Peeta finishes, interrupting my stumbling words. I take in what he's saying – that we're both seemingly on the same page and that he's willing, eager maybe, to see me more too.

My stomach flips a bit as I take in his words, digesting them while we sit together in silence thinking over taking a big step forward. Up until now we've been friends, friends with a draw to each other, friends who hold hands when he'll permit. Can we really do anything more? What is _something more_?

"Oh just give it a try already!" Prim's shout interrupts our thoughts from behind her bedroom door. Cocking my eyebrow at Peeta he smiles sheepishly at me and shrugs.

"So, we're okay then?" I ask lowly.

"I want you to be sure about this, okay? How about we go to 'Safe Booty' tomorrow night, then you can come over for some dinner and we can talk... in private." He states the last part a little bit louder, purposely, I think, for Prim's prying ears to overhear.

"She'll be there!" Prim shouts, confirming our thoughts and causing us to laugh together giddily as the nervousness from before seems to pass. Together we relish the moment, clearly relieved at having made amends and taken a step towards something unknown for us both.

Later, after Peeta leaves, I knock on Prim's door and wait for her permission to enter. When I step inside her tiny room I stick to the wall, careful to tread lightly in the aftermath of this week and the cautious way we've been handling each other.

"I talked to Effie today," Prim starts slowly, her fingers picking at her bedspread as she avoids eye contact. I wait for her to continue, unsure of where she's going with this. "She reminded me that I could have made that same comment a year ago and not even thought otherwise about it. She said it's easy to get pissed off but that it's hard to keep people around if you're always getting angry at them. She told me about how when she transitioned, it was really difficult for her to keep the friends she knew when she was Evan, so perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to turn my back on you because you've stuck by me. Plus, you know, you're my sister." We both laugh awkwardly at that, recognizing that this is something we'll have to get through together.

 _Wait, Effie was Evan?_ I try not to let myself get distracted by that little piece of information. I shift, looking at my sister and her blonde hair and blue eyes, so unlike my own features but still my flesh and blood.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings Prim," I state evenly, trying to focus my attention on her. She looks up then, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You didn't hurt them, really. I think I was just disappointed that you didn't think I could be normal, like everyone else anymore," she counters and I get it, I let her down in that moment. After all the walls we'd broken down with her coming to terms with her disease, I'd reminded her that people would still judge and stereotype her, and worse, I'd been one of them.

"I'm trying hard." And I am, really. Taking a step closer to the bed I motion permission to sit down before joining her and tucking my feet under me. "Why didn't you tell me that you and Gale were hanging out so much?" I question lamely, a little hurt myself as I remember that there's a whole other part of Prim's life that I seem to know nothing about.

"Well, you didn't really seem to be happy to see him when you came back. I figured maybe it was best not to say anything until things were less crazy? I don't want to lose him though, Katniss, he's been like my brother since we were kids. You have to understand that, right?" I nod realizing that Prim is right; Gale has been there for her too.

"You still could have told me. It's okay. I just was confused because there was this whole other part of your guys' life that I didn't know about... And I guess I thought we told each other everything, you know?" I try not to sound like a child as I confess my hurt for being left out. When I look up, Prim is smiling sadly at me.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that, I didn't mean to. It's just that life changed when you went out west, Katniss. Gale and I became good friends when Rory went off to school and we were kind of, I don't know, here and looking for family. He helped when you weren't able to." She shrugs and the tension seems to thicken as our apologies hang in the air.

After a moment, I nod understandingly. "Are we going to be okay?" I ask hesitantly. Prim nods, taking my hand in her own.

"We are. Plus, I heard what Peeta said to you! You're going on a date after 'Safe Booty'!" Her smile brightens the room as she says it, forcing me to blush ridiculously.

"We are _not._ Its just dinner between friends and can we _not_ talk about Peeta? How about we talk about Effie? Evan?" I start, bringing back her passing comment.

"Oh! You didn't know! Well, you'll have to talk to her about it; she's got a really interesting story if you can get past the overwhelming amount of pink. Katniss, you should come by more often and talk to these people, they're amazing!" I let Prim gush about the centre some more, listening to her go on about how they're thinking of training her for paid public awareness campaigns if they can swing the funding, and for the first time in a while, I finally feel at home again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all, I'm getting ready for my trip to South East Asia and I'm trying to get all my homework and prep stuff done before I leave so that's taking precedence. If you want to keep up with me on that trip, I'm Travel Cure over on Tumblr. Hope you all love this chapter! Love you guys!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK! Hopefully you guys enjoy this Safe Booty!

"Arr, don't make me pull out the whip, girlie!" Finnick's voice rings out as we step in the door to the centre and I look up to see him stalking a scantily clad 'wench' down the hallway. All around us the centre has been transformed into a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean with shipwrecked items and under the sea themed paraphernalia popping out from each corner. Knocking my boots at the door, I follow Prim through the colourful crowd of people of all ages to the back area where the lounge has been transformed into what looks like the underbelly of a ship.

A ship filled with sex toys.

I feel my face flame as I take in the sight around me, a host of different vibrators and lube on a round table, Johanna giving lessons on knot tying in the corner, almost too many condoms of the male _and_ female variety in varied bowls on every surface, and even an 'art' station where latex paint and edible body decor is open for testing.

That's where my eyes stop and I find my mouth hanging open.

"Hey Katniss!" Peeta calls out, thanking the girl applying a latex flower to his bicep before getting up and walking over towards us.

Well now, since Prim is busy laughing with Rue over the... beads? Oh dear.

"I'm glad you made it!" Peeta interrupts my thoughts again and pulls me in for a hug that grounds me in the moment. I take in the smell of him and can't help the smile that curls my lips as I settle my nerves.

 _I can do this_. _This is perfectly normal_. At least, that's what I have to keep telling myself as I stand in the middle of what has now become a stuffy room with too many strangers and the widest variety of sex gadgetry I've ever seen.

"Peet! Bring that fair maiden over here before I make her walk the plank!" Finnick breaks into our moment and Peeta pulls away, grinning widely at me.

"You're good with this, right?" he asks me lowly. I nod and bite my lip before turning to face the party head on. Together, Peeta grabs my hand and holds tight as he starts to move across the room.

"Finn, man, you've gone overboard this year," Peeta laughs as we join him and Annie who stand to the side of the room with a tipsy looking Haymitch.

"You know it! It's the best night of the year and one of the few times we get to actually bring more of the community into the centre. It's fantastic PR and _look_ at me! I'm so delicious you could eat me right up. Isn't that right, Kitty Kat?" He winks suggestively at me and I blush, looking anywhere else but at Finnick. My gaze lands upon Haymitch whose bleary eyes seem to be staring me down, flicking down to my hand clasped in Peeta's and back to me questioningly.

My palms begin to sweat, like I've done something wrong, as I stand under his thinly veiled scrutiny that I don't understand. Frowning, I drop Peeta's hand reflexively and watch as Haymitch lifts a brow.

"Katniss, how are you?" Annie asks, her costume as the scantily clad wench from before catching my attention. I break from my non-verbal discussion with Haymitch to instead focus on her breathy voice as I meet the thin girl's smile and return it carefully, nodding.

"I'm good, settling into the new place slowly," I attempt, hesitant to really get into it with Haymitch's gaze still boring into the side of my head.

"I bet. It seemed like it might be a change – when Finn and I first moved in together I slept on the couch here for three days when I needed to get out of the house. Finnick was feeling like a gutter and it was a tough transition. Things like that are always hard for everyone so just take it in stride. How is Prim doing with it all?" she questions earnestly, stepping forward and blocking out Haymitch, Peeta and Finn with her small frame. I'm able to let out a sigh of relief at her move, recognizing her action of making our conversation separate from theirs and, interestingly, more of an olive branch of friendship.

"She's doing good. Just, you know, all the changes…. We're getting through it," I laugh tightly. Taking my words in stride, Annie seems to pickup on my hesitation and prompts me on how I'm doing with it all. It's the first time anyone has really asked _me_ how I'm doing and I'm stunned. "I'm – uh. Okay, I guess. A bit stressed but getting through. This place has been just – " I pause and look around, my throat momentarily tight. "It's been a lifesaver," I finish.

The conversation pauses for a moment, Annie allowing me to settle myself as she rests a soothing hand on my arm.

"That's what we're here for. Anything you need, you tell us. Anytime. Now, tell me more about what you went to school for." Switching topics, I release my lip from its grip between my teeth and allow myself to easily fall into conversation about my schooling. In no time I find myself talking to Annie about everything, no topic seemingly being held back as she listens to me go on about my desire to have finished my forestry degree before pursuing a scholarship masters program. It's easy and light, so different from any other conversation I've had lately.

"Yo ho ho, the time has come!" Finnick shouts above our conversation, grabbing the room's attention and directing us all to get settled in for his talk. Annie grabs my hand quickly and smiles, patting the back of it softly.

"Let's get coffee sometime. I like talking to you," she whispers and pulls away to join Finnick at the front of the room leaving me standing with Peeta and Haymitch against the wall. Around us, people fill in the extra chairs and the soft couches that fill the space taking every open seat and flat wall to lean against. I watch the room settle into itself, my hands clasped tightly together as Peeta bumps his arm into mine softly.

"Just, remember it's okay to laugh, alright?" he reminds me and I smile in return, nodding.

"Now friends, fiends, shipmates and filthy scoundrels, I know we're all here tonight because of my stunning good looks and impeccable charm – " Finnick starts boastfully, interrupted by a swath of cheers and a few catcalls from the crowd. The mood grows boisterous, laughter filling the air as he walks back and forth in his pirate costume. "But really, what we're going to get down and dirty with tonight is pretty basic – I'm talking about sex. We all do it, we're all a little bit animalistic, we might as well have fun with it. And more importantly, what we're really going to talk about tonight is how to have fun while also making good decisions and _being safe_."

"And still sexy!" Annie calls out from the side, surprising me slightly as I snort out a laugh. I hadn't pictured her as part of the presentation, even though she is dressed for the part.

"Indeed, my dear, indeed. Now, let's get started from the beginning..." Finnick laughs and flicks off the lights before turning on the projector overhead. The room cheers as the visual of a 1980's safe sex lesson begins to play on the screen at the front of the room.

I find myself watching and laughing, my body easily resting up against Peeta's solid frame as the ten minute video runs itself down. The room around us plays along with the excitement of the moment, a few people adding comments to their own narration that invoke a round of laughter. When the video ends, Finnick returns to the front of the room and asks for the audience to start suggesting ways that people with HIV aren't able to relate to the video they've just seen.

"It didn't talk about us at all," Prim pipes up from her place on a couch in the center of the room.

"It did not – glad you caught that. It didn't really talk about any specific STIs either. What else?"

"It was all P in the V – nothing else! Where's the fun in _that_?" Thresh adds loudly earning a round of laughter from a few other guys and some girls in the group.

"All true – the video definitely didn't talk about other sexual orientations or how else you can get down. So, that's what we're going to do tonight. Now that you know the basics, we're going to talk about a few different categories of sex. Not everything, surprisingly, is going to be strictly HIV-oriented tonight. I know that seems weird, since that's a big reason why we're all here, but there's more to it and we could all use another refresher. Annie?"

"Let's start with... the transmission pyramid!" She laughs as the crowd groans, obviously familiar with the whiteboard she pulls out enthusiastically. Together, the crowd quickly begins filling out the least likely acts to transmit HIV –biting and kissing, sharing of sex toys and contact with bodily fluids like blood and semen.

Beside me, Peeta shifts slightly and I can sense his tension, my mind easily going back to his incident in the classroom. I realize then that he must have known this already – that maybe he really struggles with worrying about transmitting HIV to others – and I want to remind him that the risk is not real, that he's okay.

"Not now," Haymitch murmurs in my ear, suddenly close to me and reading us like a book. I turn my head towards him slightly, catching the small shake of his head. He knows what I am thinking, and he knows this is something that's unique to Peeta. The puzzle pieces seem to connect together then as I make sense of the interest he'd shown with Peeta and I holding hands.

He knows that this thing we're doing, this relationship, is on rocky ground to start with. And he doesn't like it.

"Of course oral is low transmission, I'm not denying that, but you should still be protected. What about herpes? And have you ever heard of HPV? It's making a huge play right now and it can definitely get you down so using a condom is still important." Prim's voice interrupts my thoughts, turning me back to the discussion that's happening with Marvel who is attempting to debate that oral sex doesn't need protection.

"But come on, what round of luck would we have if we got saddled with HIV _and_ HPV?" Marvel counters, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. I can sense, even from here, that the mood has changed with this comment. That the lightness from before has dissipated and people are considering his words as a blatant disregard to their lives.

"It's not about luck, unfortunately," Finnick intervenes, drawing attention back to himself and away from Marvel. "STIs can sneak up on us and get us into a position where it's harder to take care of ourselves. HIV isn't the only one that's lifelong either. Prim brings up a great point: once you get herpes or HPV its often with you for life. And personally if I were choosing life partners, I'd rather pick, say…Annie. As responsible adults, it's important we take the risks seriously and think about our actions so that we can stay as healthy as possible. Now – tell me – what sex position has the highest risk for HIV transmission? Winner gets this fantastic Astroglide prize!"

"Receptive anal!" Peeta shouts excitedly, making me jump in surprise. The room breaks into laughter as Finnick tosses him the baggy of goodies.

"Well, who knew it would be cute, innocent looking Peeta over there who would usurp all of you. He's right, you know, taking it in the ass is tops for risk. The scale seems to go that if you're the poker, you have less of a transmission risk. If you're the receiver, you get a slightly higher risk. Why anal though?"

"More risk of damage that could open already susceptible membranes, plus lower statistical usage of protection in heterosexual couples due to the lower concern for pregnancy. Overall, more risk factors, more chance." Peeta continues, repeating his knowledge clearly. I see Finnick smile at him widely, nodding as he urges him to continue. "Vaginal intercourse is lower in statistical risk because of a couple of factors. One of the big ones is natural lubricant – there is less tearing and less chance for the virus to find an entry point into the body. Combine that with the higher usage of condoms and it makes vaginal sex statistically less risky. Still a risk, but not the highest risk activity like some people think."

"Correct again, good sir. Now, for those of you who didn't understand a word the guy said – basically, taking it in the butt can do more damage on the inside which can create more openings for transmission. Another thing that makes anal difficult is the fact that your butt, you know, just naturally doesn't have a lot of the lube that makes slip and slide fun. So, condoms and lube are key. Looks like you're already beyond this safe booty, Peet," Finnick finishes, winking at us and then turning his attention back to the group before him. "Now, let's talk about viral loads for a bit." I watch as Finnick gives Annie a tight look, almost apologetic, before he continues on giving the details about viral load testing and its importance.

I listen, intrigued, as he reminds us that understanding viral loads can be confusing. I watch as Annie comes to stand behind him, her hand on his shoulder as he explains in very early infections sometimes HIV screening tests can be negative even when the virus is in the body. However, he clarifies, viral count spikes are pretty predictable, general happening early in the infection or if you miss doses of your meds. That's why, he explains, the goal is to stay on treatment to continue to lower the viral load until it's undetectable.

"But, _never_ does that mean that the virus is truly gone – so don't forget that. The important thing to remember is that undetectable is good, but you still need to be safe. And for all of you non-positive folks out there, be safe too. Detection is only the first step and it can take up to six months for an infection to show in a test. Which just means, don't freak out, you're fine. But?"

"Make safe choices," Annie finishes tightly. I'm so ingrained in the way he's speaking and the strength he's putting into his words, that I barely notice that Peeta is gripping my hand again.

When I do come back to the moment, I can't help but think about Peeta's viral load – how is he _doing_? Am I even allowed to ask? I ask Prim all the time but that seems different. However, if this thing with Peeta is going somewhere, will he tell me? Do I have a right to know? Will he talk to me about his health? His recovery?

The thoughts seem to become fuzzy in my head as Finnick carries on talking about the alternatives for magnetic couples and how the option of undetectable viral loads and non-condom usage is a possibility but still a risk. When Annie takes over for him and begins talking about the recent advances in Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis, or PrEP, she explains, as a way for the HIV negative person to reduce their risk of transmission, I begin to feel lightheaded.

Will Peeta want me to do something like PrEP? The thought makes my breathing come quicker and I have to pull away from him and head outside for some fresh air before I get sick all over my shoes.

I'm only outside for a moment before Peeta's at my side, holding my jacket and purse while standing quietly beside me as I grasp my knees and try to breathe. He lets me take my time, my mind able to begin to catch up in the quiet din of the street before us.

"I understand if you don't want to do dinner..." Peeta states quietly as I pull on my coat after a moment. I bite my lip, internally debating whether I can do this. Whether it's reasonable to give it a chance when I'm not sure if I can handle it.

 _Can I do this_?

I meet his eyes, his crooked smile careful but still there. I remember then the day I first came to Posi+ive and how it had been this man who had chased after me, who had convinced me to face off against what I was internally fighting. He'd given me the strength that day to keep moving forward, even in the wake of Prim's diagnosis and subsequent depression.

He had given me hope then.

I want that now. I want _him_ now, in my life.

"I could use some food," I murmur in response, gently agreeing to whatever it is we're doing. In that moment I know I'm strong enough to at least give this a try. I know it in the warmth that spreads through me at Peeta's brightening smile and through the way my nerves seem to smooth themselves out as his fingers brush the loose strands of hair from my face. It's worth it. _He's_ worth it.


	13. Chapter 13

Unlike the driving route, the walk to Peeta's apartment is quicker than expected, wandering down side streets and in between buildings like a snake moving through blades of grass. Together we walk side by side, few words spoken as Peeta allows me time to process the information that finally seems to connect with me tonight.

Thinking it through again, I realize that intimacy for people with HIV is something that can be incredibly difficult. Concerns about exposure, transmission, and their overall health all seem to combine with the socially important questions of public responsibility – do they have to disclose their status with intimate partners? Do they _have_ to tell people even if their viral load is low and they use protection?

It all seems to swirl in my head as I realize this is a much bigger issue than just the act itself. People with HIV aren't necessarily free to make their own decisions – all across North America I'm hearing stories about HIV positive people being brought up on assault charges for not disclosing their status and I'm appalled.

But I don't know if it's because I'm sad they didn't disclose, or that they were told they have to?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Peeta breaks in as we round out of an alleyway and onto his street. I look up from my shoes, meeting his soft smile in the pale lights from the street lamps.

"Just thinking about everything. It's a lot to take in. I don't think I realized how many things it changes, being positive, not really," I reply. Peeta nods his agreement and I feel his hand brush up hesitantly against mine. I don't pause to take it. I know too that this, this moment of questioning and reassurance, will be a constant note for us. I take his hand gladly, hopefully expressing my willingness without words.

"I know with Prim you probably got a pretty good jump into the pool – she told me the whole diagnosis was out of left field for you – but looking at it from the other side and seeing how much it does actually change things can be a shock." Pulling open the door to his building, he waves me on by and follows me up the stairs. Stepping into his apartment he wordlessly takes my coat, flicking on the light as he hangs it at the entrance. Moving towards the kitchen with ease, I watch him putter around, pulling glassware from the cupboards and turning the oven on in a matter of moments.

"Do you need help with anything?" I ask after a minute, leaning against a counter as he grabs a wrapped tray from the fridge.

"Nope. I'm just going to heat up the lasagna and garlic bread then we can eat. What do you want to drink?" he asks brightly, his mood so very different from the last time he asked me that question here.

"Just some water." Nodding, he ushers us over to sit on the rickety bar stools that circle the beat up kitchen island so that we're facing each other, finally able to really _look_ at one another. The silence fills with easy banter, discussions of our days and the centre and everything that has kept us busy over the past week. It's easily the lightest part of my day, distracting and fun, the moment reminding me of how enjoyable it is to just hangout with someone without any restrictions or expectations.

When the beep notifies us that the oven is ready I know it could not have come at a more perfect time as I realize I'm rambling slightly, my jokes coming more randomly as Peeta laughs heartily at me.

"What's your favourite colour?" Peeta asks out of the blue, getting to his feet quickly and moving to place the tray in the oven.

"Green, like the forest," I reply, smiling at his ease of conversation.

"Really? Like, fresh spring green or late summer green? I'm a painter, you know, so these details are important," he questions and joins me at a stool beside me.

"More like an evergreen forest. How about you?"

"Well, see, that's a hard question to answer. I like orange best, I think, but not like, vibrant pylon orange. More like the orange of a fading sunset with warmth and some reds. It reminds me of when I was a kid." I listen closely; enthralled by the way he describes growing up and playing soccer until the sunset only to watch the sky darken.

"So you were big into soccer then?" I imagine a small Peeta with bouncing blonde curls tumbling over the grassy field and the thought makes me smile.

"I was – at least, I guess, until I broke my leg. It was pretty bad and just before the last season in senior year. Kind of..." He pauses, catching my eye. "It kind of became the vicious cycle that got me into this mess – if you know what I mean?"

I stare at him, a little surprised that he's broaching this so quickly. Nodding, I hope he continues, wanting him to tell me as much as he's willing to. I don't know why I want to know, just that it seems important right now.

I watch as a half-cocked smile sprouts on his lips and he moves his hands emphatically as though throwing caution to the wind. "I'll just get it out there. It was a car crash; Rye had been out drinking and needed a ride home. I went and got him so our Mum wouldn't find out and go bezerk. She didn't really have the easy temperament, if you get me? Anyways, I was bringing him home and another car t-boned us. Fractured a good portion of my leg and put us both in the hospital. Mum was _pissed_. Sued everyone, got me hyped on painkillers so that I could start training for the season – "

"Wait, what? She made you _train_?" I gasp, appalled.

"Soccer was my ticket to school – we couldn't afford it otherwise. So yeah, I trained. I was on all of these kinds of pills, 5, 10, too many a day and then eventually, I guess, it wasn't enough. The pain was incredible and it wasn't just in my leg anymore. It was everywhere, eating away at me. The rehab folks told me it was all the pills I was taking. Anyways, I moved on to the harder stuff, just trying to get by and deal with the pressure of school and my mother. I barely graduated high school before I was in deep with heroin. "

"But your mum – " I start, angered at his mother for pushing him so hard.

"No Katniss, that's something that you learn in rehab when you're getting better. My Mum was tough, and yeah she probably encouraged me too much in the wrong direction, but it was me who should have said no. I didn't have to start taking the drugs or keep training or shoot up for the first time. As much as that relationship contributed to my choices, it was still _me_ who fucked myself up. And I have to own that."

He pauses and I don't know what to say. This is a lot for a first date. This is a lot to take in period. I brush the loose strands of hair back from my forehead and meet his gaze.

"Peeta," I start, unsure of where I'm going with this.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry – I guess," he smiles sheepishly and grabs for my hand, holding it tightly. "I'm not at all trying to freak you out. I promise. I just thought – maybe it would be easier to just... Tell you and have it be over with? Then you know the basics and we can just, go from there?"

"Yeah – okay. Um. Okay." I digest his words and let them sink in. They're not too much of a shock. I knew already the big bad in his history, his reasoning was solid. "You're right." I swallow the lump in my throat and pull my thoughts together. "So I know that then. How long did it go on for, can I ask?"

"Of course. I bounced around for about a year, then went to my first round of rehab because my Mum basically had me committed. When I finished I moved back home and just relapsed hard. Moved out, lived from place to place for a while. Then I started getting sick. I guess from there you can probably get where I'm coming from? Rye only found out how bad off I was when he got a call from the hospital. I'd come in strung out and half-starved and they needed a next of kin just in case I took a turn for the worse. That's when I was tested and it sobered me right up like a bucket of cold water. He got me into a heavy-duty treatment facility and helped me start to turn around. He's been –" he laughs weakly and looks away, his cheeks flushed, "He's probably the reason I'm still here. I owe his ass everything."

"Thank you for telling me all that," I start, watching him carefully as he avoids my gaze. "You didn't have to, but you did. It means a lot." I pause, wanting to say something inspired to show my awe at his accomplishment of turning his life around, but terrified I'll muck it up. Instead I stutter, "Well, as great as it is to know who you _were_ , it doesn't really change who you _are_ now, so, why don't you tell me about what kind of music you listen to?" His laughter breaks out loudly in the kitchen, a burst of light in the shadows that seemed to have filled the room. He turns back to me then, his eyes alight, and smiles.

"How do you feel about banjos?"

We continue on like that, our questions building and our answers coming descriptively, as though we are trying to write a novel with our words.

When finally the food is ready, I help Peeta pull out the cutlery and plates, moving easily with him in the kitchen, our actions natural and in sync. Sitting down beside him, I allow him to serve me up a heaping slice of lasagna and fresh garlic bread before raising my glass in a toast.

"To us and our ridiculous stories," I laugh, clinking my glass against his.

"To us for our bravery and endurance," he counters, his smile broad and his words carefully describing something deeper for us. I duck my head nervously, lifting the lasagna to my lips for my first bite.

"Oh god, Peeta this is delicious!" The taste of melted mozzarella, perfectly cubed zucchini and sliced mushrooms coming together with a sharp tomato tang almost makes me want to swoon with delight. Peeta laughs heartily at my reaction, nodding and raising his bread to me.

"Wait until you try _this_. Did I mention I'm an awesome cook?" His words surprise me and I look down at my food with the realization that Peeta actually _made_ this. There's no way _I_ could make this, I'd burn all of it. And here I'd thought he'd just bought the damn tray.

"No. But now that I know, you'd better watch out. I'll be over here all the time if you keep cooking like this!" I moan excitedly and take another big bite.

"You can come here anytime," he mutters and despite my excitement I catch a note in his voice that makes me look him square on.

He means that.

I shudder. And smile.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that, Mellark," I reply lowly and stuff another morsel of food past my lips before I can say anything else.

"So..." Peeta says later after we're finished, pushing aside his cleaned plate and wiping his hands on a napkin.

"So..." I counter, mimicking his movements and waiting, uncertain of where to start. I can feel it in the air, this is the harder stuff.

"I haven't been with anyone since, um... Everything."

If it wasn't rude to do so my mouth would be hanging open at his admission, clearly surprised by that fact. And likely surprised that this is what he is starting this conversation with. Oh boy.

To be honest, I would have thought he'd have been with _someone_ – he is too nice, too sweet, too smart and hell, too good looking to be without anyone. It baffles me. Is it just Peeta or is it really that hard of an issue for people to get past? I don't know – all I do know is that the shock is clearly evident on my face.

"Don't be so surprised," he mumbles, the flush creeping up his neck.

"I'm not – I mean, I am, but... Really?"

"Really. I haven't been much of a go-getter since getting clean. They say in the program the big steps are getting plant life and keeping it alive instead of trying to work on relationships but, I guess…I failed at a cactus, alright?" He laughs openly and while I laugh along with him, I also notice the way his hands clasp together in his lap.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not much good at it myself. Gale was the last serious relationship I had and we clearly didn't get anywhere with that." Peeta nods, keeping eye contact with me while I grin lamely. "I don't really know what I'm supposed to say here," I admit after a moment, tentative. Peeta nods and fiddles with his pant leg before reaching out for my hands.

"Katniss," he starts carefully, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles, "I don't know what to do here either, not really. But I do know this. I know that before I didn't touch many people – I've avoided it as much as possible since my diagnosis because of stupid shit – but I know that right here, right now, I can't _stop_ touching you. That doesn't have to mean anything more for now, but I need to say it because I want you to know how big this is for me. Please don't get scared of that. I just need you to understand, this is terrifying for me too."

"We're in kind of the same boat here, aren't we?" I ask awkwardly, my fingers gripping his.

"We are. I'm starboard though, okay?" The joke makes me laugh and breaks the tension in the room, resetting us until we're laughing excitedly, our bodies shaking with the weight being lifted from our shoulders. The moment is perfect, a comfort and a calmness floating around us.

And then it settles and we stop, seemingly in tandem, our gazes meeting as we grin at each other foolishly.

"I want to kiss you now," Peeta whispers hoarsely, clearing his throat with the effort. My palms are sweating.

"It is practically non-existent on the pyramid, you know," I whisper in return, hoping to make a joke and not alienate him in this moment.

"So you'll allow it then?" It seems to work.

"I'll allow it – " I don't even finish before his lips are pressed to mine, his right hand finding my cheek while his left grips my fingers tightly. The kiss is over before I realize, the breath caught in my lungs as he pulls back to look at me.

"Sorry – was that – " he starts, but I don't let him continue, sliding forward to the edge of my stool and meeting his lips again with my own.

The moment seems to stir our bodies on fire as his hands grasp my neck and run up into my braid. I let my own hands wander up his forearms, to his broad shoulders, before I pull back and gasp for breath. I press my lips back to his softly, wanting more but too nervous to ask.

I don't need to.

His tongue brushes against the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I let him in, allow him to explore as I long to press myself closer. The kiss grows deeper, my breaths shallower, our hands more desperate.

He pulls back first, air heavy as he catches his breath. Our foreheads meet then, the moment soft around us.

"That was – " I try, my eyes searching his.

"Yes. It was." His smile is gentle, his thumbs tracing my cheekbones softly. "When do you have to be home?" The thought breaks through the haze from his kiss and forces my mind back to reality. I look down at my watch and frown.

"Soon. I should probably get walking before Prim starts to worry." But I don't move. I'm stuck to my chair not wanting to leave.

"I'll walk you," Peeta murmurs, leaning forward and brushing his nose against mine softly. Normally I'd protest but right now I can't argue. I'm intoxicated by him, drawn to his touch and his being.

I never want this moment to end.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ow, my body is sore today. My mind is tired too. I'm feeling pretty whiny about everything and nothing much is helping. I'm definitely not getting this done as much as I wanted, but as I work towards the end right now I hope this chapter will do for now. Thanks for sticking around.


	14. Chapter 14

Peeta pulls me against him as we stop at a stoplight, our bodies colliding as the cars rush past in their fever to get home. His hands press against my hips, holding me to him until the light signals our crossing. We move slowly through the streets, our fingers entwined and our lips occasionally brushing as we pause. Neither of us is in a rush, comfortable with ourselves and this night.

Though we haven’t discussed everything, the expectations or the risks, we’ve made the big things known. We both know now, as we walk along in the quiet, that truth and trust are what we need to guide us as we move forward. It’s all I can ask for with so much uncertainty and honestly, it’s all I can offer.

“You know I’m going to put my foot in my mouth a lot, right?” I ask a few blocks from my apartment. Peeta laughs beside me, his shoe kicking at a rock along the sidewalk.

“I figured something like that. It’s okay – I know we’re not perfect. What if – maybe – I don’t walk away when something has bothered me? Not like before?” he counters. I take the olive branch, grateful for it.

“That sounds good. And I’ll try to think about things before I say them. It’s kind of what I suck at but maybe – “

“No, Katniss, you don’t suck at it. You have a steep learning curve and that’s okay. These ideas have been taught to you, you didn’t come up with them by yourself. I get it – I dealt, well, am still dealing with them too. You’re going to find there are a lot of things I still judge about myself even though I should know better – it’s normal,” Peeta interrupts. His words make me stop abruptly, pulling his hand as he steps forward.

“Peeta,” I state quietly, unsure of what to say next at the admission of his own self-judgement. I want to ask why he’s so scared of his own body, of his own blood, why he hesitates to touch or why he holds himself to an impossible standard as I’ve seen him do with his recent dismissal from his job. I want to ask him everything about that but I don’t get the chance before he interrupts my thoughts.

“I want to say ‘ask me anything’ here, but we both know there’s going to be stuff that um, maybe we’re not ready to discuss yet, am I right? Can we agree to just be honest about it? Maybe say just a simple ‘not yet’?“ he asks calmly, his voice steady and sure.

I nod at his suggestion, glad that he’s open to taking this all slowly while we both gage ourselves. Internally I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have when I can, but I want to get to know you. More of you. I want to know the Katniss beyond the centre and now I’m starting to ramble....” He peters off slightly, brushing at his brow as I smile at him. I wonder then what’s in his mind – does he think of me as a mystery to be solved? Does he worry I’m not the someone he thinks I am, but someone else entirely?

Distractedly, my mind floats the idea that perhaps Peeta thinks _I’ll_ think he’s someone else than the helpful man, teacher and friend who I’ve come to enjoy being around. Biting my lip, I worry the thought around in my head for a moment.

“I don’t think you’re only the virus, Peeta,” I blurt out awkwardly. I have to suck in a breath to continue, careful to try to make my thoughts something understandable. “If that’s what you’re afraid of. I know I’m going to want to know more things eventually,” I hesitate, trying to find the words to properly say what I’m feeling. “But it doesn’t all have to be now. And it certainly isn’t going to be... I guess what maybe I’m trying to say is, I want to meet you, not the virus. I don’t need to know all your counts or whatever. I’m here because of all the good things I like about you, and all the other things I want to learn. I want to know the you outside the centre too, I guess is what I’m saying.” His answering nod, his smile and the way he squeezes my hand mark his wordless agreement and I realize he’s already come so far tonight and I don’t want to force anything.

Besides, there’s time. I have to keep telling myself that, because for some reason I can’t help but think that maybe there isn’t that much time for us

We start walking again, hand in hand as we digest each other’s words. When we come upon the entrance to my apartment I stop, turning around slightly and gripping the railing behind me. The lasting thought about us and limited time makes my stomach turn and I don’t want him to leave just yet.

“I’d invite you up, but I don’t think that would be the best idea,” I smile sadly. Peeta seems to pick up on the hesitation too, looking up to where our apartment window peeks out on the street. “Prim would never let me live it down if I brought you upstairs. She’d harass me until the end of time, you know.” I make the subject lighter, forcing my thoughts to move past my imagined fears and on to the sister living upstairs who would thrill at the idea of Peeta coming up for a nightcap.

“Yeah, I get it. I have an interview in the morning anyways; I should probably get home and get some rest.” He starts to step back, his body moving farther from mine than it’s been all evening and suddenly I feel cold.

“Peeta wait!” I nearly shout, desperate to have him come back. He turns on his heel, smiling. “An interview? Where?” I know it’s lame but why does it have to be over so soon? And how did we not have time to talk about the interview before?

I just want to talk about everything with this man it seems. I can’t help the smile that is hurting my cheeks at the idea of him getting an interview somewhere new to do what he loves.

“A different school, across town. It’s a long shot, but...” he trails off, his hands tucking in his pockets. I step down from the stoop of my building and stride towards him without thinking. My lips meet his in a surprisingly swift kiss, my hands grasping at his jacket lapels.

“That’s for luck. And for the good time I had tonight. Text me tomorrow, after?” I ask as I pull away to put some distance between us.

“I will. Get going inside now though or else I might not leave,” he jokes and nodding, I skip up the steps and into my building.

Though I want to, I don’t look back at him walking away as I disappear through our lobby entrance. I know that if I were to look, there is the possibility that I’d chase him down and that would just be embarrassing.

For who?

I pause on the steps, my fingers coming to brush against my lips tentatively as though the pressure of Peeta’s tongue has left its mark. I’m giddy inside, rarely having felt this way before. I remember the last time this feeling had bubbled within me, back in the ninth grade when my crush had smiled at me as I dropped off a delivery for my job. This is different though; my body is humming and despite everything that there is to think about, to worry about, in this moment none of it matters.

Peeta has made me forget the things that make me feel like I am drowning in this life, if only just for an evening.

It feels wonderful.

“Katniss, get your ass up here and tell me everything. I’m _waiting_ ,” Prim shouts from above. I can’t help the laugh or the sweat that curls in my palms as I move towards the fate that is my sister’s in depth inquiry into my night.

* * *

“I thought I’d call, instead,” Peeta’s voice rings out of the other end of the line, static hogging most of the sound. I’ve scooted off to the hallway to take the call, away from my desk and the prying eyes of other employees trying to listen in.

“How did it go?” I ask into the phone, my fingers gripping the edge.

“It went. We’ll see when I hear back. How’s your day going?” I nearly sigh, wishing for details but not getting any.

“Oh, you know. Answering phones and placing orders. It’s a real thrill a minute. I need to get something better and more permanent soon. What are you up to now? Heading to the centre for the afternoon?” Dragging the toe of my boot along the carpet I trace a pattern before me, listening for his breath on the other end and missing the ding of the elevator behind me.

“Well, I was going to ask – “ The dial tone sounds in the phone and I pull it away, confused, to see the ‘Call Ended’ signal while his voice still clearly echoes around me.

“Huh?”

“I said,” I startle as his hand lands on my shoulder, surprise spinning me towards him as he tucks his phone in his pocket. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab some lunch. There’s a deli around the corner we could go to?”

Smiling, I nod, excited and without words at his surprise.

After grabbing my bag and clocking out for lunch, we slip downstairs and out onto the street. The daylight is warm though the wind is brisk, picking up around my thinning jacket and causing a chill to run up my skin. I’m thankful then that the deli was just around the corner, tucked inside a small alcove of space but still bustling with the lunch crowd.

“What do you feel like?” he asks, stepping towards the counter.

“Cold!” I shout in return. Turning towards me, he raises an eyebrow at my answer and pauses. _Oh_. “Schnitzel on rye with salt and lemon. And soup. Any kind.”

“Two of those, actually. And can we get the barley stew? And two waters.” Watching him interact with the man behind the counter is enjoyable – Peeta easily makes conversation, joking and playing along with the man’s puns and out of turn phrases. I envy this skill of his, the ability he has with words to just make small talk. I know if I were to return here, I’d easily place my order and wait silently against the wall until my number was called.

I don’t do small talk.

“Let’s grab a seat back here,” Peeta says, motioning towards the back of the deli to where a few sets of tables are scattered. We tuck ourselves deep into the corner, away from the door and the cold breeze that accompanies each person’s entry. “He’s going to bring out the food when it’s ready.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” I mention over the rolling conversations and noise that swirls around us. Peeta cocks his head, his brow furrowed in question. “The friendliness. How are you so good at it?”

It seems like a silly question but I can’t help but wonder. In all my stereotypes of kids who grew up hard I figured that Peeta would be withdrawn from people, maybe a little more abrasive, but he’s not. At all. It’s what drew me to him in the first place but I still find myself astonished by it. How could he live the life he’s had but still be so kind to everyone?

“How do you know it’s not an act?” He counters, surprising me with the serious tone in his voice. I scowl, unsure of how to react to this different side. Until he grins and shakes his head. “Sorry, just kidding. But for real, I don’t know. It’s just how it’s always been. How did your homecoming go last night?”

The change of subject is welcome, my nerves hot from my worry about overstepping myself already. Instead I laugh, recalling my sister and her written list of questions she wanted to ask me so that she could record the –

“Momentous occasion – can you believe she called it that? Rude. In her journal – “

“Here you go!” The greying man with his white apron sets our tray down before us, his enjoyment evident as he does so. “Hope you two enjoy.” He winks, nodding to Peeta before returning to his place at the counter. I dip into the soup and pause, blowing the steam as a force of habit. When I look up, Peeta is staring at me, his gaze intense.

“What?” I start, putting down my spoon and touching my face to see if I’ve sprouted horns or something.

“You’ve got something – “ He leans towards me, his hand at my cheek softly brushing my skin before he jerks forward and kisses me. Pulling back, he tucks his napkin in his lap and smiles widely. “Got it.”

Momentarily stunned, I stare at him as he begins to dig into his meal, his long fingers wrapping around the spoon. I’m entranced, my blood humming, before someone around us drops a tray and causes me to jump.

“You were talking about Prim’s list?” Peeta breaks into my thoughts, moving from the stew to his sandwich.

“Ah, yes. She wrote down a list and started asking me about everything, what base we got to, what your story was, if you told me all of your deep dark secrets. Don’t worry though, I told her she’d better talk to you for that information. But otherwise, I kept it simple. She seemed a little put out about my answers so watch out.” Nibbling on my schnitzel, I let the memory from the night prior coast over me and warm me. His lips on mine, his warmth and laughter.

“Well, I can handle her- don’t worry. So, what are you up to this afternoon?” I cock my head to the side, confused that he would ask because he should know that I’m working. “I mean, after work,” he adds, swallowing the last of his food and wiping his hands on his napkin.

“Ah, well. I go from here to job number two. It’s a double header today, really thrilling I know. Then hopefully back to the apartment for some sleep.” The whole idea of the rest of my day exhausts me but I know it’s necessary. That’s the reality of it; no matter how lost I get in thoughts of Peeta and his kisses.

I really need to stop getting distracted by that.

“Too bad. Annie and Finnick were hoping we could all get some dinner tonight.” I catch the look of disappointment in his face and the mask he throws over quickly to try to hide it.

“Yeah, I’m sorry – “

“No, no. Don’t ever apologize. It’s all good. Your lunch is almost over, want me to walk you back?” My eyes flicker to the clock over the counter, the hour nearly finished, and I frown. I don’t want it to be done. Not yet.

“Sure.” I can’t help the deflation in my voice.

Clearing our table, we return our trays to the counter and Peeta bids the man a farewell before we walk back out into the cold. The ride in the elevator is quiet, both of us holding our words for some reason. When we reach my floor I turn to him and smile, unsure of how to say goodbye without sounding so pathetic about it.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” I nod and let go of his hand, the one I wasn’t aware I was holding until now. Smiling, he leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips, so much different from the one he’d given me not long ago in the deli.

I want to linger in this moment, let it sink in and let the feel of it consume me. I want his hands in my hair, his skin against mine.

I shake my head of those thoughts, my brow pursing as I realize how quickly I’ve moved in my want for Peeta. Where did this hunger come from?

“Go back to work now,” he laughs lightly, stepping back and into the waiting elevator. I give him a small wave before the doors close, my last glimpse of his crooked smile making my toes curl.

How am I going to survive this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just went back and responded to most of the reviews/comments I knew were outstanding and I apologize for taking so long. I promised when I started getting reviews that I would respond to all of them because I wanted to show my appreciation for you taking time to write to me and I kinda fell away from that. I still love you all, and still thank all of you for sticking around and reading this. I hope you continue to enjoy it and if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me. Thanks again to my super awesome beta, Opaque, who even checks in on me when I have radio silence because life is a shitshow. You're the best.


	15. Chapter 15

"Katniss, we're out of veggies again," Prim calls from the kitchen where she's been investigating the food situation for her dinner tonight. I poke my head out from my 'room' and catch her eye, remembering that I haven't had a chance to get to the grocer yet this week.

"Sorry, I can go tomorrow night," I apologize and continue to lace up my boots as I prepare to head out to work. Not accepting that for an answer, Prim comes to stand before me, her hand held out towards me.

"Come on, give me your card and I'll go get it." She looks at me expectantly, as though this isn't out of the norm for us. "Katniss, let me help. It's time."

Sighing, I lean over and dig through my bag until I find my wallet. I find it deep in the bottom, keeping company with the mints and other pathetic things I hide in the faux-leather sling sack that begs to be replaced. Everything about the bag, about the thinness of my wallet itself, reminds me of how tight money is. It nearly screams it.

I look at her hard before giving over the card, my mind arguing internally over the need and the illogical want. I _need_ to give up some control, but I _want_ to keep everything held together. We're just barely teetering on the edge with getting things back on track and I'm nervous again, hesitating with every purchase.

"Only the essentials, promise me?" I feel silly having to say it; I know Prim would never intentionally harm our precarious financial situation, but at least while I'm the only one doing the shopping I can control the money. Giving up that part of my responsibilities is a critical leap for me, I realize. This little bit of trust, this little moment of giving something away, makes the sweat appear in my palms. I know I can trust Prim, it's just… it's hard.

Closing my eyes, I suck in a breath through my teeth and silence my own fears about losing control over everything. This was so much easier when Prim was little and couldn't go shopping.

I can't do it all, I remind myself. I've been trying and it's not working.

"You know I won't spend more than I need to. Do you have a list of things you want?" She grabs the card from my hand and spins away, disappearing into her room as I talk myself down.

"No, I'm good. Just get groceries" Getting to my feet I head towards the door and try to leave before I take it back and offer to go shopping tonight before I come home.

I know realistically that I can't go on like this forever – I need help with keeping things running and Prim is the obvious person for that – but still, giving something up is a hard change for me. I've always been the one making it work, relying on only myself to make ends meet.

There's a part of me that's clung to control like a wet rag holding on with every last fiber of my being. It's what I've done every time the ground has shifted below my feet and changed the topography of my life. First with Mum, now with Prim. Seizing control has always been my method of coping and I'm only just now seeing the problems it can cause.

Down on the street and out of our building I pick up my pace on my way to work. Against my thigh I feel my phone vibrate, another text likely coming in from Peeta.

The last three months have been wonderful, if I'm going to admit it. Peeta helps, I won't deny that. Simply being around him is like letting air out of an over-blown balloon. We'd spent a few lunches together around my building at first, hiding out and stealing kisses when our meal was finished.

That was, at least, until Peeta got word that his new job came through. I couldn't have been happier for him when he called me late one night, his ringtone waking me up from the sleep I'd been trying to slip into. Though I'd wanted to talk about all of it, Peeta could seemingly sense the exhaustion in my voice and kept the call quick. The lunches stopped when he returned to work and our time together seemed to dwindle even more.

Unfortunately at about the same time as his news, my life grew busier than I'd realized it could be. The hours picked up in availability at work and I gladly grabbed at them to store away more money to keep us going longer. The collection calls have stopped, at least for now, thankfully giving me a sense of reprieve if not for the excessive work schedule. It is a small victory in the race that I'm now understanding is a marathon.

The crappy part is that this victory is a bittersweet one. With the increase in the hours that I'm working, and the limited time I get to myself, it's been difficult to really get more than a short meal together with Peeta. Despite having to bail out on him more than I'd like- two dinners and an activity at the centre to be exact- he hasn't seemed to bat an eye. Still though, it makes me feel like a shitty person when I have to give another excuse as to why I can't get together with him even though it's the only thing I can really ever think about doing lately.

I'm exhausted though, barely functional now that the two jobs are catching up with me and I'm trying to balance Prim and Peeta and everything else at the same time. I know I need a break – however small – just to keep my mental state intact.

Stepping into the diner I slip back to the staff room and drop my things, changing out my boots for shoes and swiping in on the clock. I check my phone quickly, reading the greeting from Peeta that gives me a thrill but also makes me annoyed that I don't have time to respond.

The extent of my shift is mindless, the patrons regulars and low tippers. I'm not surprised, nor annoyed, at their lack of generosity. The diner is in our sketchy part of town and its clientele are likely getting off shift at the factory and looking for a cheap hot meal before they head home. I don't blame them – I understand the struggle too well.

Returning home later that night I nearly stumble through the door, my feet barely moving me forward until my knees hit the bed. The darkness of the apartment coupled with the low din of the humming baseboard heaters seems to lull me to sleep before I even undress. I'm exhausted, far beyond any care in the world as I dip down into sleep.

It isn't a dreamless sleep though.

The nightmare starts quick, coming at me like a train that's late and trying to make up time.

_I'm sitting in a waiting room, the walls threateningly white and the silence around me nearly suffocating. I can barely breathe, my chest feels so tight with anxiety. I think I'm crying; at least when my hand comes away from my cheek it's wet._

" _Ms Everdeen?" A blurred nurse calls from beyond the glass doors to the care area. I feel myself gulp, my legs wobbly as I stand._

_The room before me is dark, a curtain drawn and beeping the only sound to keep me company. No breaths, no movement. I'm alone here._

_It's so familiar, I can taste the bleach from the harsh cleaners in my mouth and the sour bitterness of adrenaline burning through me._

" _Mom?" My voice croaks._

_Am I here for her? I don't know._

_The room spins and the curtain shudders, a great vibration that seems to move like a gust of wind._

" _You can go in now." A doctor emerges from behind the curtain; clipboard in hand and a solemn look on his face. He pities me in that look. "It looks worse than it is. At least they're comfortable now." He continues, patting my shoulder._

_The pressure nearly forces me to collapse._

_What's behind the curtain?_

Who's _behind the curtain?_

" _Prim?" I sob it now, my dream self aching with fear. Bile rises in my throat as I grab at the fabric. I can't watch her die._

_I can't._

" _Prim?!"_

" _It's okay Katniss," Prim answers me, her voice wavering slightly. I gasp at the sight of her across from me, her posture stiff as she sits in the plastic chair of the ward room. Her hair is mussed and her skin pale, but she's alive and she's not –_

" _No," I moan, looking down at the frail figure in the bed. My horrible fears have become realized as I stare down at Peeta, the sight making the air escape me. He's frail and thin, the colour drained from his face as purple lesions mar his neck and chin._

_Grasping at his hand, I find him cold to the touch._

_I can't be here._

" _Katniss, don't leave now," Prim calls, her voice distant._

_I don't want to watch this happen._

_He can't die. Prim can't die. I can't watch everyone I love leave me._

" _Katniss, we're okay."_

I feel my body jerk, my mind fighting for air as I open my mouth gasping.

"We're okay!" Prim shouts again, her words like a cold slap across my face. I pull her to me in a fierce hug, my arms wrapping around her desperately before I'm even fully clear of the grasp of the nightmare. I can feel it still in my bones, my heart racing.

What I'd dreamed was a nightmare, thrust at me from the images and horrors that my mind has concocted for me. I'm stuck with only the worst case scenarios to keep me company in my sleep, the kind that have built from the years of loss circling and choking me.

"Prim," I whimper, my fingers knotting in her loose hair as I try to hold her closer to my chest. She means the world to me, she keeps me anchored, but despite all that the memory of the dream has me fearing another person's death.

My bones ache for a loss I can't imagine and one that I can't say out loud. Not right now.

"Hey, shh," Prim soothes calmly. Somehow she's kneeling beside me on my mattress, her arms wrapped around me and her warmth surrounding me. "You were crying. I couldn't get you to wake up. But it's okay now. It was just a dream."

I nod my head and take a shuddering breath. Prim is okay. Peeta must be okay too. It was just a dream.

We sit there together for what seems like hours, holding onto each other until we seem to find ourselves wrapped under the sheets like the playful children we used to be. Like the Lost Boys of Neverland, hiding out in imaginary places under sheets and in faux forts of whimsy.

At least that's how I comfort myself as the bitter taste lingers in my mouth.

"Prim, tell me it's going to be alright," I ask quietly after a while, staring at my baby sister in the dim light under my blanket. We're hiding here as though it will protect us.

"Everything will be how it will be," Prim replies honestly and I can hear the hesitation and the forced calmness in her voice. She's trying to grasp things. She's trying to be strong. For me.

"How do you do that? How do you tell me that knowing what you know and how the story will go for you?" I ask quietly, the words coarse and corrosive in my throat. Prim only smiles wearily at me, sisterly understanding evident.

She knows me so well. Knows I'm horrible with words and that I'm trying, so hard, to understand.

"Katniss, I don't know how the story will go for me. Nobody does, you know? I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. Just because I've got this disease doesn't mean I have to be confined to that. It's hard, don't get me wrong I'm still not a beacon of hope, but you have to start living again somehow eventually or else it steals whatever time you have left." Her words comfort me, ghosting over me and sinking in. I grip her hand tightly in mine and let the moment settle.

"When did you grow up?" I ask weakly. Prim smiles at me and sighs as though she's heard this all before.

"You forget that I've been growing up for years, Katniss. Trust me, I'm reminded of how much it sucks every time I go to the doctor on a three month checkup. And I'm reminded of it when we're still really fucking poor at the end of every month and when you still argue with me about not letting me get a job so that you're not stressed out so much. I know it sucks, but with all that suck going around I need to focus on something that doesn't.

"So I have you, and we have the centre, and I have a chance at working with Finnick and Annie to help other people grow up too. All of those things make it easier and less sucky. Those things don't solve it, they can't, nothing could really except maybe a time machine, so I need to get right with it. And so do you."

I take in her words carefully, considering what she's said and all that she hasn't said. She sees it too, the tight hold I have on things as a way to keep it together for my own sake. I might think I'm adjusting to all of this alright but I guess I'm not. Not really.

"I think you should talk to someone, Katniss. Let them help you so that I can get out of this apartment without you looking at me like I'm going to disappear." She laughs at that, the joke tongue-in-cheek. "Talk with Annie. Please. She knows what she's talking about, loving someone who's infected. She can help you, I think."

The nod comes before I really even think it through, the agreement coming from within before my brain even has a chance to process it. I know I'd do anything for Prim, I know I'll do this for her.

Shifting under the blanket, the weight of the dream comes back to me like a brick sinking in water and I remember the stark imagery, the brightness of the harsh lights of the hospital and the fear that had coursed through me. I need to talk about my fears before they eat me from the inside.

 _She knows what she's talking about, loving someone who's infected_.

The thought strikes me and it's not only Prim that I care about at the core of my fears.

"I dreamed that Peeta was really sick," I whisper. Admitting it makes it seem more real, makes it seem like the dream was a reality that I've tried to forget. "He looked like death and was covered in purple lesions…"

"Kaposi's Sarcoma," she breathes "You must have seen pictures when you were researching online…" The nightmare thrusts a flash of a pamphlet at me, forcing the memory to the surface as I cower inwardly. I remember the images, the lesions and the end of life appearance of its sufferers. "It's rare now though, you know? The therapy we have now is so much better and Kaposi's isn't really – Katniss?" I feel the anxiety again in my stomach and I'm up on my feet without warning, searching for my phone as Prim calls to me from her place on the bed. "Katniss – stop." She tries again, startled by my sudden change in demeanor. I ignore her, frantic for my purse because that _must_ be where my phone is.

Her hand lands on my arm, stilling my movements as her fingers wrap around my wrist.

"Stop! You're freaking me out!" Prim shouts. I meet her eyes then and freeze, the fear in her gaze evident.

"I need my phone!" My voice is hollow, desperate. I don't know why but the feeling seems to overwhelm me, like the dream was real.

Why am I like this?

Prim seems to notice it too, questions swimming in her eyes. Still, she releases my wrist after a pause and quickly joins me to help find my phone.

When it turns up a moment later, tucked under my pull-out bed, I grab it from Prim's hand and press the numbers until Peeta's voice, soggy with sleep, echoes from the other end of the line.

I hang up immediately, my hands shaking with relief as more adrenaline and a swift wave of embarrassment come crashing down on me. I hold steady with a single thought, one that keeps me standing despite the emotions running through me.

He's okay.

My phone rings in my palm and I look down to see Peeta's familiar number.

"Answer it," Prim instructs, patting my shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. I look over my shoulder at her and press the green button hesitantly. I've made my bed, now I must lay in it at this ungodly hour.

"Katniss?" Peeta's voice gasps from the other end of the line, laced with panic and confusion.

"It's okay, sorry. I – " Prim nods her head towards me, her mouth moving as though saying _tell him_. "I had a bad dream."

The silence stretches for a moment and I hear a thud as something drops on Peeta's end.

"Oh," he sighs carefully, his breathing slowing noticeably as though he's forcing himself to focus on it.

"I didn't, um, - " I suck on my tongue as I try to find the words.

"What happened in the dream, Katniss?" He asks calmly. I hear the rustle of fabric as though he were taking off his jacket. Had he been rushing to the door? I feel my cheeks flame and I turn to see that Prim has disappeared to her room, leaving me to the semblance of privacy that I'm thankful for.

"You were really sick. Lesions and you were dying, I was sure of it. I just kind of... freaked out and called you. I'm sorry." My voice squeaks uncharacteristically at the admission. The other end of the line seems quiet for too long, as though the words have frozen time.

"I don't really know what to say to that," Peeta responds. I feel deflated at his words, as though every feeling in me has left me at once.

"Peeta – " I start, unsure of what to say but wanting – no, _needing_ – to fix this. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. I just. I'm sorry. Go back to sleep. I won't – "

"No, wait. Katniss you don't understand- I'm not mad. I've never really had um... I guess what I'm trying to say – fuck, how do I say this?"

"Just say it, please," I whisper, hanging off his every word.

"I never really had someone worry about me enough to call me in the middle of the night in a half-crazed panic. Or really care enough to worry about me being sick like that at all, not really. Rye cares, don't get me wrong, but I guess this… Um, thing, between us is different." Across the line I hear him sigh and I can almost picture him laying back in his bed, his body relaxing into the mattress. I don't have the words to fill the silence so instead I retreat to my own bed and sit heavily on its edge waiting for the words I need to hear. "I'm okay, Kat," he says after a while, his breathing settled and my heart beating a more normal speed.

"You promise?" The words hover between us.

"I am. Promise. Want me to stay on the line until you fall back asleep?" My throat goes tight at his kindness, the relief evident as I release a heavy breath.

"If you want to stay with me?"

"Always." The word blurs into my mind as I rest my head on my pillow and sink back into the depths of sleep to the sound of his steady breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a new job today.


	16. Chapter 16

"Katniss! I'm so sorry I'm late!" I barely hear Annie call to me over the hustle of the crowd in the diner, her small frame skating between tables of patrons who not an hour ago were hassling me for their orders.

Prim must have mentioned something to Annie after my nightmare because no sooner than the next day, Annie was on the phone convincing me to grab a late dinner with her tonight and catch up. I'd agreed half-heartedly, my tired mind unable to try to come up with an excuse so that I could go home and sleep instead.

I won't lie: I like Annie, but this last week has nearly gutted me in terms of my energy. The nightmares haven't really stopped, though they've gotten less intense. I still dream about standing graveside, the hot tears waking me up though I'm thankfully silent when I do. It's not comforting to sleep so much lately now. On top of that, my lack of time to see Peeta is really catching up with me. Especially in the small hours of the morning where all I want is him next to me, his skin touching mine and his breath on my neck.

"Wow, it's gross outside let me tell you!" Annie interrupts my thoughts, dropping into the booth across from me and setting down her bag and raincoat. When she looks up, she frowns minutely and I can only watch as her eyes flick over me. "Prim said you weren't sleeping but Katniss, if I can be honest, you look like crap."

I laugh, a great burst of feeling bringing me close to the edge of sanity, as I'm surprised by her words and the forwardness with which she hands me a judgement.

"Katniss?" She asks again quieter this time, her voice barely breaking into my laughter. I can sense her hesitation and I shut my mouth with a snap, my cheeks flaming red as I consider how I've just behaved.

If I wasn't so tired...

"Sorry, I didn't – "

"Don't worry about it. That was pretty abrupt of me, but I just guess I was surprised is all. How are you doing?" Annie settles into her seat, her easy change of pace and the way that her eyes almost see through me has my shoulders relaxing and my mind seeming to calm without much effort. I glance off to the right, my fingers ripping hazardously at the napkin as I consider what to say.

Does honesty make a difference here?

What am I even doing?

"Okay, how about I start? I'm not getting nearly enough sex right now and it's really bumming me out. Now you go." My mouth drops open at her words, my gaze zeroing in on hers as she laughs, waving over one of my co-workers and asking for a round of nachos and some water. After the girl has departed, Annie smiles encouragingly at me and sits, waiting.

It's another moment before I can put into words what's drowning me.

"I think I'm losing my mind," I mutter and flick a piece of napkin onto the floor. Annie nods emphatically, her hands gesturing for me to continue. "I'm not even sure what to say. Annie, you barely know me, I can't just dump this stuff on you."

"See, that's where you're wrong Katniss. I know you well enough. I know you hold your cards close to your chest and that you play hard to get to know. You're fiercely independent and loyal beyond belief. You've had a hard life and now you're being thrown curveball after curveball, all while you try to keep it together to be strong for the ones you care about the most. Sure, we might not have been best girlfriends for years, but I know enough about you to have your game understood. I get it better than you think. So why don't we start from the beginning and I can put my master's degree to work?" She links her fingers together before her and I catch her sweet smile and gentle eyes, her whole demeanor promising to listen and be fair.

_I need someone._

The thought cracks into me like a bolt of lightning and I realize that it's true. I need someone to listen to me, other than one I'm trying to protect or the one I'm trying not to fall too hard for.

"The money issue seems to be the crux of it all," I start, pausing and trying to right my thoughts. For Annie to understand I need to tell her from the beginning, about Prim's diagnosis and her wavering depression, about the money situation eating through our meagre savings and my fears of losing control.

"I totally understand the money dance, trust me," Annie states when I pause for a breath. She nods around her chips and flashes her hands to show she's got more to say. "Finnick and I just started to get things under control financially and out of nowhere some asshole in the capitol went and jerked our funding. We'll get it back, but right now we have to strap it down. It sucks, but Katniss, you can't give up everything forever. Like these nachos – they're what I'm choosing to not give up right now, you see?"

"Yeah, but isn't it different? I'm trying to provide for both of us and make sure Prim gets the best chance she can with everything going on. I'm choosing to do this, it's just..." I groan, and Annie listens as I ramble on about what's going on with our apartment and the wish I have for some selfish semblance of privacy.

"Katniss, I have to stop you here for a second. I really am trying to let you get through everything but I need to tell you that you are so far away from selfish for wanting your own space right now. That's like the anti-selfish, okay?" By this point Annie is a third of the way through her nachos, the orange cheddar hardening on the plate as I look down on it. I hear her words but I can't deny the way I feel.

"I don't know how to stop feeling like it's self-centred though. I know we can't afford it, logically, so it _is_ selfish to want a bedroom because that would mean putting Prim out for my own gain – "

"You are being ridiculous. That's not selfishness. That's self-preservation. Have you ever thought that maybe sleeping on that rickety old pull-out is making it harder for you to get any real rest? Or that working all of these extra hours is catching up with you? Which you are doing because you won't let Prim get a job. It's – " Annie shakes her head, her hand coming up to point at me abruptly. "Prim is getting a job at the centre, I've already put in the paperwork, and you're going to take a turn in that bedroom by the end of the month."

"That's not going to happen," I argue, my head shaking in denial.

"She _is_ going to work. It will be good for her, and you will use that room even if I have to come over there and carry Prim out myself. Katniss, you're not doing either of you any favours by burning yourself out. Prim is a an adult and she understands, okay?"

Considering her words, I sip on my water and let the cool ice roll around my mouth. I understand what she's saying, it makes total sense, but the idea is so foreign to me that I find it hard to digest. I haven't put myself first since I came home – when I got the call from Prim, everything just sort of stopped for me again, just like it had when our father died.

"So now that we've got that taken care of, which will hopefully settle the sleeping issue you're having, why don't we talk about what I have been wanting to talk about since Peeta mentioned you before the bowling night?" For the second time tonight I find my eyes meeting hers, my brows lifted and my mouth slightly ajar as she smiles innocently at me. We stare each other down for another moment before she lifts a large piece of nacho to her lips and tips her head towards me, her wordless gesture telling me _go on_.

"Um, well..." I start hesitantly, not too sure of what exactly to say. Is Peeta okay with me talking about him? I consider then that he's already talked about _me_ to Annie, or at least to Finnick, and that was a long time ago. Biting my lip nervously, I grab for a nacho and stuff it in my mouth to buy me more time. Annie laughs in response but remains wordless, waiting. "Okay fine. I like him. I think he's great. I hate that I can't actually see him more because we're both so busy and it pisses me off. Is that what you want to hear?"

Annie laughs louder now, her hand held to her chest and her body shuddering with the effort. When she's done she smiles at me and nods, her fingers tapping on the table.

"I wanted to hear you say it. Peeta cannot stop talking about you at the centre. Okay, he can because he knows you're a private person, but you can see it on his face every time he gets a text from you or someone mentions you. You don't even know the effect you have, do you?"

"I didn't – " I shrug half-heartedly, a small smile of my own creeping up on me. "I just want to see him more, is that so wrong?"

"Not even a little. I remember when I moved here and saw Finnick for the first time since high school. It was like a magnet for us and I wanted to see him all the time. But there were... things we had to work through and it was hard." Pausing, I watch as Annie lifts her hands to cover her eyes, her fingers pressing into her brow.

"Annie?" I ask after a moment, her name seeming to interrupt her thoughts. Pulling away her fingers she looks at me sadly, her eyes distant.

"I want to tell you something but I don't want to scare you away or change your mind about anything," she whispers across the table, her voice strained. I frown, nerves rising up as she shifts uncomfortably. "Just promise to hear me out, okay?"

"What are you talking about, Annie?" I prompt uncertainly.

"I'm talking about what happened with Finnick and me, and what I hope Peeta and you never have to deal with. Did Peeta ever tell you about us?"

A shiver runs down my spine as Annie begins to talk. Her voice wavers, fragile and distant as though recalling a dream. She tells me about discovering Finnick, her high school crush, living in the city that she had just moved to. The connection for them had been almost instant, though Annie had pushed him away. She'd known then that there was something he wasn't telling her, something that would change things.

"But you can only deny yourself for so long, you know?" Annie asks carefully. I nod because I _do_ know – how many times have I thought about Peeta like that? "When I found out Finnick was a sex worker it threw me through a loop. He started when he couldn't make ends meet – it was just supposed to be a few Craigslist ads. But then he got dragged in more and more and I guess when you're in deep you just get stuck. He was trying to get out, he never lied about that, but his boss was a real mean fuck. Kept him in the game for too many tricks."

I try not to imagine Finnick in chains, my vicious imagination running wild. I can't though, especially not as Annie paints the picture of the room where they both were tested for sexually transmitted infections. Or where they both turned up with negative tests for HIV.

"It was negative and he was out of the game and so we thought, we're okay. We can live our lives. But then things got bad."

"Annie, what are you saying?" I ask carefully, not sure I really want the answer. I know what's going to happen next but if I keep denying it I hope it won't – I need it to not – be real.

"He was positive the whole time, Katniss. It was probably an early infection so it just didn't show up on the test. When Finnick got a stomach bug that would not get better we found out not only that he was HIV positive but he had infected me as well. I guess we both foolishly got into this mess, but it's the hardest thing we've ever had to get past. I'm telling you this because I want you to know it happens – it happened to us – and I want you to think about it all before... Well, just make safe choices, okay?"

I feel my stomach moving uneasily, the minimal nachos I've eaten shifting with the anxiety that comes with Annie's words.

She hadn't meant to scare me, I was sure of that, but her truth had made my thoughts race and my uncertainties rise. By the time I say goodbye to Annie that night, her sighs about going home to a miserably sick-with-a-cold Finnick making me roll my eyes, all I can think about is wanting to see Peeta, needing to see him, before the night is through and I have a change of heart.

Without really even thinking about it, I find myself at Peeta's door after a calming walk through the deadened streets. I knock once, twice, before the door is pulled open and Peeta's surprised face is staring at me, his mouth wide and his hair askew.

"How – it's so late, Katniss. How did you get here?" he stutters, pulling me inside, his hands resting on my shoulders. I must look a wreck because his face softens and his hands brush comfortingly across my cheeks.

"I needed to see you, I guess," I whisper in return, my body moving from foot to foot awkwardly.

"Why don't you come in and have some tea and we'll talk?" Peeta suggests after another moment and I follow him easily. I toe my shoes off at the door and shuffle across the floors, my eyes on the flimsy socks that cover my feet and barely hide the pink of my skin. "What's got you all shaken up? If I can ask?" He pulls down mugs and puts the water on to boil. I stand at the stove beside him, my eyes drawn to his hands as they pull the tea bags loose.

"I was with Annie tonight...and I've been missing you, I think," I reply. Peeta looks towards me and smiles, a small quirk of his lips.

"She told you about their situation, didn't she?" He leans casually against the counter beside me, his hand placed next to mine though not quite touching.

"Yeah. I just couldn't – How do they... I don't know. Peeta, what are _we_ doing? I mean, kissing and having dinner and hanging out, don't get me wrong I love all of that, but..." I pause and huff, turning and pacing away anxiously before turning back to him. "What are we doing? Are we going to... Are you okay with that even?"

We both stand silently, surprised at the forward way I've flung my current worries out in the open for scrutiny. I feel my face heat up as the seconds pass, my body on fire with embarrassment as Peeta stares me down. Behind him, the kettle begins to scream it's warning and my nerves fire, my fists caught at my sides.

It's only two steps away and I reach for him, one hand grasping desperately at the burner dial and the other coming up to grab the collar of his shirt to bring him towards me. He stands pliant in my arms, his frame steady and moving yet unwilling to return the gesture. My breaths against his neck run hot and with both arms wrapped tightly around him I pull his face down to mine.

The kiss seems to snap him from his moment, his hands coming to hold my hips and press me back against the counter. I feel his tongue lick against my lips and press its way into my mouth, no hesitation on my part to stop him.

With the bite of the counter pressing into my back and the pressure of his thumbs on my pelvis I groan at the feeling that now is nearly overwhelming me. I want this, oh do I want this. I want _Peeta_ , I want him close to me. I don't care what Annie said, I don't care about that right now because all I want is this.

"We need to talk about things, Katniss," Peeta whispers through tiny pecks from his lips. I can feel him try to pull back from my embrace, his body distancing us though I swear I can feel how much he doesn't want to. I hold on for a minute longer before letting him pull back.

His eyes are dark, his brows furrowed before he turns away from me and fills the mugs with the hot water. We don't move from the kitchen, our feet frozen to the floor as we sip the burning water and stare at each other.

"I'm afraid, Katniss. I want – I want this so much but I'm afraid of what will happen. I feel like maybe I've been waiting my whole life for you, just you, and now you're here and I can't because even though I want to – I want to be with you so badly – I can't. I don't know – I..."

His words catch me off balance, their blunt nature so unlike the usual way he paints a picture for me. Watching him, he twists the tea bag string between his fingers like a nervous twitch belying the fragile thoughts that he's just laid out for me.

"I don't want to be like Finnick with us – "

"You're not anything like –"

"No, listen, wait. Katniss, I don't want to give it to you. I'm terrified of being the person who gives it to someone. I have been since I knew I was positive and had to try to remember who in the hell I did drugs with – do you know how hard it is to remember people when you're shooting up? To even know their names? The people interviewing me from the Department of Health, they try to be nice but you can see it, they're mad you don't know and they're disgusted with you. It's the same with everyone else who knows – they're afraid and it only feeds back into you. If they're afraid, clearly you're dangerous. It's the same mentality that got me fired – I could have easily controlled that situation at school if I just had my fears in line but I didn't. I'm so afraid of going further because even though I know the realities and I can spout the information, I'm still walking around with poison in my body. Poison that could hurt you." His tone changes dramatically from start to finish, his body language changing as though gearing for a fight. I watch him carefully as he riles himself up, refusing to play into the way he is feeding off of something dark inside him.

I don't speak until my tea is finished and I'm busy placing my mug in the sink, my body turned away from his.

"Peeta, isn't it my choice too?" I ask quietly. The tension that's been building up in me whenever I see him, whenever I think about the touch of his hands or the feel of his lips, seems to roll off of me in waves.

"Yes, but – "

"Don't say it. I want you to think about it. How can I help?" I step towards him carefully, aware still of the way his body remains frozen in place. Taking the mug from his hands I place it on the counter and reach for his hand.

"I don't know," he whispers in return. The defeat in his voice, the way his shoulders sag, makes my chest hurt.

"Can we sleep on it?" I ask and look up, waiting for him to meet me halfway. I know we won't do anything tonight, it's too much for right now, but I want him close to me and I want to feel his body next to mine and know he's there. It will comfort me. Maybe it will comfort him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I'm sorry this took so long! I went away to New York for a wedding last week and I've just been crazy busy with my new job and everything. So here, ENJOY!


	17. Chapter 17

"I don't want you to leave," Peeta sighs into my hair, his fingers playing with the loose tips that he pulled out of my braid hours ago. The time has flown since I led him back to his room and pulled him down with me onto the soft mattress.

At first there was no denying the hesitation between us – Peeta had put himself at a distance, his hand just barely able to interlock with mine as we lay facing one another. I hadn't minded, not really, since I savoured the moment of quiet that we allowed ourselves to indulge in.

Once we started talking though, our conversation drifting from childhood stories to workplace woes, our bodies inevitably grew closer, our legs intertwining as we found comfort with each other.

Now we lay with my body curled against his side, my head on his chest with the blanket pulled up to my ribs. I can feel his breaths against my forehead and his heartbeat under my ear – the combination soothes me and I relish in the heat that his body gives off.

I wouldn't trade this moment. Not for anything. I wish I could live in it forever.

His words bring me back and I smile and pull his hand to my lips.

"I don't _have_ to go if you don't want me to," I reply quietly, uncertain. I don't want to push his boundaries but the bliss from being here overwhelms the logic that tells me I should go home tonight.

Can't I have this for myself? Just once?

"Don't you have to work in the morning?" That thought sobers me and I take a moment, considering.

"If I wake up early enough, I can probably get home and to work without a problem. Do you want me to go?" I ask the question even though the idea of it pains me inside as I look up to meet his eyes. He frowns down at me, the pause making my heart thud in my chest.

" _No_. Not ever. I just would understand if – "

"I'll stay then. For tonight. And we'll figure out tomorrow when tomorrow comes," I resolve and return my cheek to its place over his heart. I feel more than hear the laughter that tells of his relief, of his happiness.

"Where did you even come from, Everdeen?" he asks after a while, just as my eyes begin to close with the first layers of sleep.

"Too many mistakes to count," I joke in response. The honesty behind my words is bittersweet as I think of the path that's brought me here – Dad's death, Mum being a disaster, me trying to grow up too fast and running away to school, leaving Prim to her own devices, the story ending with her being diagnosed and us winding up at Posi+ive.

I try not to let the self-blame for that sink my mood.

"No, I think you came from the sun, too radiant to be contained. You're beautiful, you know?" His words make the blush rise to my skin and I try to focus on plucking the fabric of his shirt until he brings his fingers to my chin and tilts my head towards his.

Our lips find one another, my body instinctively reaching towards him as I try to get closer. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss as I shift until I'm lying nearly on top of him, my legs sliding to straddle his hips. The movement seems to jolt us both back to reality and Peeta's hands pull my face from his slowly.

I can feel him hardening below me, my own response making my belly grow hot with want.

"It won't be tonight," he states carefully, his eyes searching mine desperately looking for something more.

"I'm okay with that. Are you okay with this?" My reply is slightly strained, my voice tight as my body thrums. His hands on my hips, there to surely steady me, feel like they're burning into my skin as they slide below the hem of my shirt.

"Just, let's promise each other – "

"We'll go slow. We can stop at anytime. I want this Peeta, but I want you to want this too, okay?" The words coming from my mouth seem too perfect, so unlike me who is the one always fumbling with what I want to say. Peeta seems to sense it too because he smiles, his body rising up to meet me for a hard kiss.

We let things progress without force, our hands gentle in their explorations as we find new parts of ourselves. Peeta is the first to lose his shirt, my fingertips eager to graze the expanse of his chest and the curled blonde hairs that grow there. I thrive in the sighs that he emits, watchful as his head lolls back as though he's never felt another's touch before.

The thought fills me with a sadness that roils into a burn, a fire lit that makes me want to make him feel so much more. This sweet man, so beautiful and strong, deserves to feel everything life offers; to give him any less is criminal. Leaning down, I place kisses along the center of his chest, my hands drifting to his shoulders and sliding down his arms until our fingers interlock.

I hold myself there for a spell longer, my teeth playfully pulling at his nipples before his hands pull the fabric from my back. When my shirt has ridden up to my bra he pauses and meets my eyes with a sheepish look, so unlike the confident man I've come to know.

"Is this – "

The nod is quick, his hands moving fast to pull the shirt over my head. I watch as his gaze slides to my chest, mesmerized, before he meets my eyes again. A beautiful smile tugs at his lips and I feel myself flush, awkwardly perched atop him as he rakes me with his eyes.

"You are more lovely than I could have imagined," he whispers and pulls me down to him so that his lips can find my ear, my neck, my shoulder. "From the sun, I swear."

I laugh against his chest and feel my body rock against his hips instinctively. Mid-movement I freeze, my body tensing as I prepare myself for him to pull back. I _know_ this has gone too far for him. I just know it. The hot flame of embarrassment licks up from within me and I tuck my face against his neck, hopeful that he'll ignore it.

But he doesn't. His hands slide down to the top of my jeans, his fingers pressing into my hip bones and guiding me against him slowly.

"It's okay," he says, his voice tight with something I don't quite know.

I'm slow to move at first; careful to make sure that this is what he wants because even though he says it, I still can't help but doubt what's happening. When his hands continue to guide my movements, when I pull back and slowly meet his gaze, I know that we're walking a thin line.

But still we go forward.

It isn't long before the pleasure of him between my legs, the friction from our movements, begins to make me pant. I can feel him hard below me as his thumbs press into me and my body rocks above his. Before long, my arms rise until my fingers are lost in my hair and my hips are pressing down of their own accord, chasing and rushing towards the inevitable.

The feeling barrels towards me like a freight train until I feel his fingers grasp my breasts and squeeze, the rough skin of his palms rubbing against my nipples under the cups of my bra. His touch undoes me and I cry out, my body collapsing as it presses down against his in smooth, hard rocking motions while I find my release.

When I'm able to open my eyes, my upper body supported by my hands on his chest, I look at him and take in the rise of colour to his cheeks.

Then I feel it.

He's still hard below me.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I moan and cover my face, so unsure of what to do. I thought – I was sure – it was good for him too but I'd lost myself somewhere along the way. "Do you need me to – "

"No, oh – No Katniss, it's –" he interrupts abruptly and shifts me until I'm kneeling beside him instead of straddling him. "I'm going to go take um, care of this. One sec." He disappears quickly from the room, the blush evident even on his back as he moves towards the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and I groan loudly, embarrassed and painfully aware of what I _hadn't_ done for him.

How could I get so lost in myself?

Did he not finish because I did something wrong?

The fears and worries cloud over me until I'm pulling on my shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to come back and kick me out.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," I moan into my hands as the shower turns off a few moments later and the bathroom door opens. His heavy gait tells of his quick return and I can't fight the feeling of just wanting to hide but instead forcing myself to see this out before bolting like instinct is telling me.

"Katniss I'm – wait, are you leaving?"

He asks this carefully, hurt just barely evident in his voice. I look up from between my fingers and frown, unsure of what's going on but knowing that it looks like I am totally ready to run.

"Don't you want me to leave? I thought because you didn't – "

"Oh. Oh, no. Katniss, no. I swear, no." He quickly reassures me, coming to kneel before me so that we're eye level. I feel his hands pull at mine, still damp from the water, before he kisses me sweetly. When he pulls back I allow his hand to cup my chin as I see the smile beaming from him. "Katniss, no. I didn't – I mean, it was good. Really good. I just maybe freaked out a little and you were, um, having such a good time I didn't want you to stop. No. It was all me, I swear. You – " He interrupts himself with a quick kiss. "Are – " Another kiss. "Perfect."

I don't know how to handle what he's said – the compliments and the recognition that somewhere I'd made him uncomfortable. I don't know how to feel – not really. It baffles me.

"Will you stay?" He isn't pleading, that I know and gives me comfort.

"If you still want me to. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable in your own apartment though," I hesitate to finally look up. When I see him he's grinning widely, as though concern is beyond him.

"I do want you to stay. That was an unexpected surprise that doesn't change anything for me. Stay."

"I'll stay," I repeat quickly "But we have to talk about what happened. I don't understand – " I'm quickly distracted when he stands up and pulls me up with him, his hands slipping around me and pulling me into a tight hug.

"It wasn't you, I swear. I just haven't done this in a long time and I didn't want to make a mess and freak you out. I got stuck in my head."

"So, you just... didn't want to come in your pants?" I joke as I pull back, forcing him to look into my eyes. He shrugs and looks away, his face flaming.

"I guess so, yeah." We both laugh as the tension and awkwardness seem to pass with his admission, the air clearing as our bodies press together until he clears his throat. "That and I guess, um, you know semen is a fluid that, uh..." He stumbles over his words, their tightness belying his nerves.

"I'm not afraid of you, or what's inside of you, Peeta," I reassure lowly, pulling his hand to my lips and planting a kiss there. I bring our linked hands up together and press them to his cheek carefully. "You don't have to get caught up in your head – we're grownups and we can handle this. We'll just be careful, understood?"

I can't help but notice the very adult way I've reacted to his fears, almost as though I wasn't in retrospect a little nervous at how carried away I'd gotten myself. Cocking my head towards the bed, I hope the moment has passed and my words have reassured him at least a little.

Smiling, Peeta strips down to a fresh pair of boxers and moves to his dresser before lending me an oversized shirt and pair of shorts for pyjamas. We tuck ourselves under the covers, the feeling of his clothes surrounding me, of his chest being my pillow and his body being my heater, not to mention the release from earlier, all play into me quickly drifting off to the sound of his deep breaths and the feeling of his fingers brushing through my hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Celebrating my country's birthday with an awesome 4 day weekend! Yay Canada! Hope you're having a good one, readers!


	18. Chapter 18

“I’m going away this weekend, remember?” Prim calls from her room as I fold my bed back into the couch. It’s Friday afternoon and I’m already home from work, the shift having ended surprisingly early with my boss telling me I’d get full pay anyways. 

To say I am a little excited about the free time is an understatement. 

The last two days have been a blur. Since coming home from Peeta’s the other morning, I feel like I’ve been floating through my days. Prim hadn’t let my return go without notice – like a dog with a bone she’d hopped on the question wagon before my key had even slid into the lock. 

I’ve told her  almost  everything, the action from me so unlike anything she’s ever witnessed. She was so surprised- I’ve never been one for talking about these things growing up- but it was as though Peeta was all I could think about. The best part was when Prim didn’t continue her questioning – she was satisfied with what I’d given her and didn’t bother to press me further. 

It seems like finally things are getting better since coming back from school, like maybe life is going to be smoother than expected. 

At least until Prim’s words seem to put a haze on that feeling the moment they register in my brain. What the hell is she talking about? 

“You’re  what ?” I question, finding myself at her doorway looking into the small room. 

“I’m going away, for the education retreat. I told you about it like a month ago, Katniss, and yesterday morning… , come on ,” Prim replies as she examines two shirts from her closet. Taking one, she rolls it up and places it in her small suitcase and looks up at me expectantly. “You really don’t remember? Okay. Well,” she huffs out a breath and digs through her purse, pulling out things and messing up her once tidy bed. “Here’s the paperwork with all the information. I’ve written down the phone number for you on the fridge and I have the alarms all set on my phone to remember to take my meds every day. Do you remember now?”

Reading over it quickly, I try to digest that Prim is leaving the city to spend a weekend with Finnick, Annie and a few other recruits from the centre to work towards their counselling certifications. The memory is vague but sure enough, Prim had told me about it just the day before when I was running to change my clothes before heading off to my second job. Sucking in a breath, I forgive my sister for her snap remarks and let the annoyance go. 

“Is  this what Annie was telling me about?” I ask as Prim picks up her bag and walks out to the living room. I remember Annie  informing me that Prim was going to get a job at the centre but I hadn’t probed for more information then, still lost in my own issues. Now the trip is starting to make more sense. 

More sense that causes my worry to break into the fog of happiness that has been surrounding me for the last few days. The worries crowd in like sand filling a hole, finding every nook and cranny available in my mind and sneaking back into my consciousness.

What if she got sick while she was away? Or the stress of the material freaked her out? What if she failed or something went wrong? I was sinking fast, my mood plummeting as I began to think about everything that could go wrong with this trip.

“Get that look off your face, sister,” Prim scolds, pulling the papers out of my hands and stuffing them back in her purse. I move to face her, my arms resting over my chest as I try to force myself to relax. 

“I’m just...” I hesitate, knowing full well that the thoughts in my head are crazy ones to most people. 

“Katniss, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be back Sunday night, alright? And if anything goes wrong, I’m with people from  Posi+ive and I’m pretty sure they’re going to know what to do. Enjoy your weekend for once, sleep in my bed! Or-“ Her excited rambles are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door followed by Finnick stumbling through the entrance way. 

“Woah, still need to get that fixed, I see,” he crows referring to the heavy stick of the door that got him the last time he was here. 

“Hey Finn, tell Katniss here you’re not going to let me die this weekend?” Prim greets happily and grabs her bag again before heading towards the door. 

“Well, she won’t die. But I can’t promise no broken bones. How good are you at hiking, Prim?” 

I turn to Finnick with surprise and fear riddled through me, the shock likely evident on my face as they both break out into raucous laughter causing Finnick to start coughing and sputtering from the effort. 

“She’s going to be fine, Katniss. Relax, have a good weekend, call Peet,” he suggests with a smooth wink before disappearing out the door behind Prim. 

In a rush, I feel the quiet settle in around me and it takes a second before it really clicks. I have the apartment to myself. I’m alone. The worries from a moment before return to the place that they hide in my mind and I pull in a deep breath, relaxing into the feel of the quiet. 

I don’t even have to go into work until eleven tomorrow. 

I could cry with how excited I am, looking around me and taking in the moment. Feeling my shoulders relax and , my mind begin to clear, I let out a deep breath and laugh giddily before turning back to the couch and falling onto its cushioned surface. 

“Quiet. So quiet,” I mumble to myself and grab for a blanket. I’ve halfway reached across the cushions when my phone begins to ring, the shrill buzz of it cracking into my mood. “Hello?” I groan onto the line.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart. Look, this isn’t a social call. Can you come in to the centre? Meet me in about thirty minutes? I have some news,” Haymitch states clearly, the often familiar husk of alcohol gone from his voice. 

The nerves that have just left me come rushing back, my fears about being denied coverage or looming additional bills flashing behind my eyes. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Um, do I need anything?” I ask getting up and making my way over to my purse. I know if I’m going to get there in thirty minutes I’ll need to go now, if not ten minutes ago. 

“Just you. See you soon.” The line clicks dead and all I can hear as I slide my phone into my pocket is the beat of my heart in my chest. Without thinking twice, I hurry to get my bag together and head out the door, quick-timing my steps down the road. 

I end up nearly tripping through the front door of the centre as I rush to get there. I’m sure I look a mess, the fresh sweat on my brow reminding me of the impending hot weather that will come this summer. 

“Katniss?” Peeta greets with surprise from behind the front desk. I shoot him a tense smile and point to my watch before disappearing down the hallway to Haymitch’s office. I feel guilty about practically barging passed Peeta, but I can’t help my need for answers  now .

“A little late, sweetheart,” Haymitch grumbles from behind his desk as I poke my head through his doorway. 

“Sorry, I was at home and – “ 

“We got it, kid.” Haymitch interrupts me abruptly, a rare small smile making his features really stand out. In that moment he looks like someone who turned heads before he fell into the bottle, someone strong and beautiful who got lost in his sadness. 

“Got what?” I inquire when he doesn’t continue, my nerves ebbing slightly. Pulling the door shut behind me for privacy, I sit heavily in his guest chair and grip my fingers together. 

“Some funding. Enough, at least, to cover prescriptions and medical coverage. They’re also interested in reviewing your situation for a rent controlled unit but that’s still a ways off yet. It’s through a well-established charity so it should be pretty stable but I’d recommend working on building up that savings again just in case. Payments will come in monthly direct deposits to a joint account – you’ll need to set that up with Prim – at the end of every month. The conditions are though that continued efforts are to be made for Prim to return to school. I talked to them today and they approved this funding based on the case information provided – “

“Case information? I just filled out forms – “ I interject, the whole overwhelming meaning of what he’s saying starting to get through my ringing ears. 

“The centre put it together. Every month we submit new cases to various groups in hopes of getting more funding for those that come through our door. You signed the release of information – “ Haymitch starts to dig through the papers on his desk before I put my hand down over them in a snap. 

“Never mind that. What? Haymitch – are you just joking with me here or...?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper. The man shakes his head and withdraws his hand carefully. 

“You’re actually getting some real, no bullshit, financial support here Katniss. Somebody out there wants you and Prim to have a fair chance. I’m not kidding you,” he states evenly and I know that if I were standing I’d be currently on the ground. 

“What?!” I shout excitedly, the sound rattling the window of his office. 

It feels so surreal, so not like something that would ever happen. I don’t have to worry about paying medications? Or medical coverage? That’s... That’s almost my entire monthly budget. I don’t have to pay for that anymore? 

“Hey – is everything - ?” Peeta interrupts, swinging the door open with a burst and looking towards myself and then Haymitch. I give him a smile that nearly breaks my face in half and nod slowly. Inside my excitement feels like fireworks, my mood in the clouds. 

I can’t wait to tell Prim. 

I can’t wait. This is what we needed. This will get us through. This... Kindness. 

“Is this real?” I ask Haymitch once more, my mind just needing that list bit of confirmation. 

“Do you need a drink to seal it?” he replies back, reaching for his flask and holding it out to me. 

“Oh my god.” Shaking my head at his offer I look back up towards Peeta, the words hanging on my tongue. “Prim and I, we’re going to be okay, Peeta.”

Choking on my words as I try to explain what Haymitch has told me, I feel tears of relief, excitement and overwhelming happiness slip down my cheeks and I smile. Peeta seems to understand the size of what I’m saying as he joins me in a strong hug, his arms nearly stopping the breath in my lungs as he pulls me towards him. 

The celebrations seem to carry me through the next hour as Haymitch begins to explain the process that our application went through and how the money will now be addressed. As he gets into the details of our application, the depth of the things included nearly brings me to tears. 

Since coming to  Posi+ive , Prim’s and my participation in the centre’s activities and different education sessions largely contributed to our application which was managed through Effie’s office. The application, which is signed off on by at least three members of the centre’s board, includes not only our financial status and formal information; but also profiles on  us and how we’re adjusting to the diagnosis and the future outlook.

“The feedback was very positive about Prim’s desire to attend medical school and work here, but they were, to use Effie’s words, ‘absolutely enthralled’ by you, Katniss. Seems you made an impression without even trying,” Haymitch finishes, snapping the document closed and sliding it across the table towards me and now Peeta who sits next to me with my hand clasped in his.

“I didn’t even realize,” I murmur aloud, the excitement from before ebbing into a true feeling of the weight of the world being lifted from my shoulders. 

“It’s because you don’t understand the effect you can have.” I turn to Peeta and pull him close to me again, his words causing warmth to run through me. When I turn back, the strange look from the night of ‘Safe Booty’ is back on Haymitch’s face, his eyes judging me though they’re now coupled with a look of confusion.  

I force myself to dismiss it and get to my feet quickly. It’s time to celebrate for real. 

“Thanks Haymitch, for everything,” I say before turning to Peeta. “Lunch?” 

* * *

“I can’t – “ Peeta adds before pressing his lips back to my neck, his body holding mine against the stairwell wall in front of my apartment building. 

Our lunch had been short and sweet, my excitement filling me with confidence and a contentment that I hadn’t known was possible. The walk back to my apartment had only built the feelings within me and by the time I turned to Peeta to say goodbye, expecting him to want to go home, I was flying so high I barely had a moment to breathe before he was capturing my lips with his. 

He didn’t want to go home at all. 

Instead we get lost in each other until a passing car honks to interrupt our rather public make out session. 

Laughing, I invite Peeta up to the very  empty apartment to spend the night but we once again stall, our bodies more interested in one another than getting to privacy. 

“Can’t what?” I whisper in between the heavy breaths that escape my lungs. The feel of his body against mine is making my blood boil, the simple act of breathing hard to handle. 

“I can’t get past the effect  you have on  me Ms Everdeen.” 

Running my fingers through his hair, I pull him back until I can meet his eyes and give him a small smile. 

“Let’s get upstairs while we still can, okay?” The laughter bursts out of us both and we hustle ourselves up the stairs two at a time. 

With my key still in the door and our arms tangled together, Peeta and I stumble our way through the entry until my back hits the dining table and a shocked shout rings out. 

“Oh fuck.” The familiar voice makes the blood that was a moment before humming, rise to my cheeks as I tuck my face against Peeta’s collar, desperate to hide from everything. 

“Hey, uh, Gale... Jo...” Peeta stutters, his hands squeezing and releasing on my hips. “What are you – “ 

“Fashioning a better room setup for the Everdeens as a surprise. But I can definitely see this is uh, a um, bad time,” Gale replies. Behind me I can hear his voice rise an octave higher than normal, his apparent discomfort at my situation noticeable. 

“Thanks Gale,” I mumble from where I’ve still got my face hidden from them. To say I’m a little surprised to see them here, in our apartment, is an understatement but definitely not something uncommon. Growing up, Gale had always seemed to find his way into our place, crawling through windows or picking the lock. Now though I know it must have been Prim to give him a key, their relationship still strong while Gale and I struggle to get back to the friendship we used to know.

“Oh, grow a pair,” Johanna laughs and to my surprise she tugs me away from Peeta and pulls me into a tight hug. “Look at what we did!” she instructs when she pulls back. Turning, I take in the room around me and the fake wall that they’ve fashioned to make the living room smaller and almost into a second bedroom. “Annie told me you need some space or you are going to go crazy so Gale and I here, well, we built this for Prim.” 

I look at her in confusion. For Prim?

“You get the room, Catnip,” Gale fills in the blank and my mouth drops open. 

“You guys built us a second bedroom?” I ask quietly, awestruck at the second gift I’ve received in the last few hours. 

I look around me some more and take in the hallway to the bedroom and bathroom, now extended out to encompass the pull-out couch that I sleep on to create a second room with a door near the kitchen. On the other side, the ‘living room’ is now a small space just big enough for a TV and maybe some small chairs for Prim and I. I’m in awe by the small change that has made a huge difference to the space, giving the privacy that was needed and keeping a little bit of extra space for us to relax in. 

“Yep. I learned a few things growing up about construction and I needed a lifter so here we are. It’s not much, but we like a less crazy version of Katniss. So, surprise?” Johanna says and steps back to slide up next to Gale. The image of them together, of Gale’s large body towering over Johanna’s as she tucks herself next to his side, makes me happy and I step towards them and pull them into a tight hug so uncharacteristic of me. 

“Thank you. So much,” I whisper loudly. I stay like this for another second longer before I feel Peeta’s hand on my shoulder. 

“It looks great,” Peeta adds as I step back and brush my palms against my face trying to force away the tears. 

“We were, uh, just out celebrating,” I start to explain and the happiness seems to take over me and the tears rush out with the laughter that escapes from me. 

“Katniss and Prim got a Smith Grant,” Peeta finishes for me. I see Johanna’s face drop in surprise, her recognition apparent. 

“So you don’t even need this anymore, moneybags!” Johanna groans and throws her hands up in exasperation. 

“No, no! We do. At least until we qualify for rent control housing. This is amazing, really,” I finish and lean back into Peeta’s arms. The intimacy of the move, of our closeness, seems to set Gale on edge as he steps back and looks around awkwardly, not meeting my gaze. I see the familiar unease in his features, so similar to how I’d acted the first time I’d realized him and Johanna were getting close, and I tuck it away to hopefully talk to him about sometime.

“We should um, get going, give them some privacy, you know?” Gale says a second later to Johanna. 

“Oh! Hell, yes!” Johanna shouts in response as though she had forgotten how we’d stumbled in the apartment earlier. “Okay kiddies, we’re out. We setup all Prim’s stuff in here now so feel free to christen your new room, if you know what I’m saying,” she laughs and winks with exaggeration before grabbing her purse. 

Together Peeta and I watch as they gather up her tools and step towards the door, Johanna’s arm wrapping around Gale’s before he pulls open the door. 

“Katniss! Almost forgot!” Johanna turns when Gale steps into the hallway. I step forward curiously and meet her halfway before she holds out a tin towards me, her eyes hard as they meet mine, seriousness clouding her features. “This is for you. I’ve got more at home so don’t worry about giving it back.” She pulls my hand up and places a thin worn tin in my palm before folding my fingers around it. “Stay safe.”

Without another word, Johanna slips out the door and pulls it closed forcefully, overcoming the stick, behind her leaving me to stare at the tin in my palm and wonder if what I’m thinking is real or not. 

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Peeta says, breaking into the silence. I let him wander into the kitchen before I move towards my room-  my room?  \- and open the tin in the new privacy I have. Inside it are a variety of condoms, the packages in every colour, size and style. I feel my face flame both from embarrassment and perhaps a little bit of nervousness. “What is it?” Peeta asks from behind me, surprising me so that I jump and spill the condoms on the edge of the bed. 

I freeze, looking down at the packages and then up at Peeta. 

“Oh,” he mutters. I can see his knuckles go white as they squeeze against the glasses of water he holds in each hand. “Guess we should talk, eh?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Can I just remind you all how amazing my beta is? Seriously, I could not do this without her and I value every second she throws into this story making it fuller and more enjoyable. Plus she's dope with tenses. Love ya'll (ps. if there's problems it's because I have a new computer without Word so I'm migrating everything to Google Docs and it's... interesting.)


	19. Chapter 19

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you,” Peeta mumbles, shifting until his leg brushes mine as we sit on the edge of Prim’s – no, _my_ – bed. The last hour or so has been chaotic, to say the least.

After Haymitch’s news that we were finally getting some financial assistance for Prim’s medications, and then stumbling into the apartment to find Johanna and Gale fabricating a second bedroom for Prim so that I can finally have some privacy, I was almost unwilling to sit down and talk when Peeta suggested it. But I couldn’t deny that this talk was going to happen eventually. Especially not when the condoms Johanna gave me are in both of our hands, our fingers each rubbing the packaging to distract from the awkwardness we feel with the slip of the lubed latex inside.

“I do. I know that seems fast, but let’s be honest here, you’re beautiful and I’ve been interested since you walked into _Posi+ive_ that first day. But it’s just – I don’t know if I’m ready. Are you ready? Are we ready for the risks... It’s such a big thing--”

“It doesn’t have to be,” I interrupt quietly, my fingers stilling as Peeta stiffens abruptly. I know my words have surprised him, they’ve surprised me as well, but we both know this doesn’t have to be as big of a deal as he’s making it. Yes, there are definite risks to sleeping together, but if we’re safe and we take precautions, shouldn’t it be okay?

“Katniss,” Peeta sighs after a moment when I don’t say anything more. The air is tense with our discussion – should we have sex? Should we risk my contracting HIV from him? Are we ready for this? “I’m not ready.” Peeta stalls my thoughts and finally turns to me, his hand lifting to turn my face towards him. “I’m not comfortable with it. That doesn’t mean never, but I can’t right now. I mean, I’m good with my meds, I’m on schedule with them and my last viral load was undetectable, but that doesn’t mean I’m better I’m just... Is it weird that my nightmares lately are of you getting infected because of me?”

“Peeta, that’s ridiculous,” I state lowly, my voice cracking as his eyes close tightly. “I’m sorry – that wasn’t the right thing to say. But you have to understand where I’m – “

“I know it’s not totally logical, but I’m nervous! I don’t want to screw up whatever it is we have going here by just treating this like it’s not a big deal. It _is_ a big deal, to _me_.” Moving to stand, he pulls away and turns to face my closet, his hands on his hips. I watch him move stiffly from one foot to the other and I chew on my lip anxiously.

“Peeta,” I pause and move to stand behind him, my hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “I’m okay if we wait. But I’m worried that what you’re saying is the worst thing that could possibly happen would be for me to contract HIV from you and... That goes against everything that I’ve been learning since Prim told me she had it. Do you really believe me contracting HIV is the worst possibility?”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs and turns to me, his palms coming to rest on my arms. “It wouldn’t be just that you got infected. It’d be that you got it from _me_. That _I_ was the one who did it and you would be sick _because of me_.”

“Because of _us_.” My eyes meet his as I say it, my voice strong and belying the nerves running under my skin. “It would be because of a risk we _both_ took, Peeta. There’s two of us here, remember?”

I watch as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, his body losing tension with every breath.

“I’m just not ready to take that risk yet. I’m not there. But I still want you. I do. With every fibre of my being, I want you.” When he looks at me again, I can see the swirling anxiety within him, the stress and the fight he’s having with his decisions, with his reality of being HIV positive and wanting to be with me. I know in the way he looks at me that there’s more than just the physical want between us, there’s the pull of something more, something deeper.

“How can I help?” I watch as he blinks once, twice, before his lips settle on mine in a soft kiss, a tentative kiss, the moment almost broken.

“Just be here,” Peeta murmurs in between brushing his lips against mine. I smile and return the affection, my fingers dropping the condom and sliding through his hair.

“Peeta,” I pause after a few minutes, pulling back slightly. He stops my words by kissing me again and I laugh at his playful interruption before starting again. “Can we please--” Another kiss. “Can we talk to--” A longer kiss. Breathless. “--someone about this?” My final words seem to make him pause and he pulls back before I lead him back to the center of the bed with me.

“What do you mean?” he asks carefully. I can’t ignore the way his emotions look a little sheltered, as though he’s unsure of what I want when just moments ago the sexual tension had been nearly thick enough to cut.

“I mean is there like a counsellor or something we can talk to? Or maybe... You’ve mentioned before how you are with your diagnosis – like when you freaked out at your old job? Have you ever talked to someone about that?” I worry my lip with my teeth when I finish, my hands sliding to hold his in mine.

I know my question is intrusive, like maybe I’m pushing his boundaries just a little, but I can’t help it. I want him to know that I _hear_ how he talks about his own relationship with HIV and how he still sometimes reacts as though he’s a monster inside because of it. I want him to know that I’m not running scared because of it and that _yes_ , _I do_ want to have sex and make love and do all of the things that couples do and... woah. I have to stop myself there as my thoughts get ahead of me and I clam up at the fear of how fast my mind is moving with this relationship.

“Yeah, I mean--” Peeta thankfully breaks into my consciousness with his hesitating words. “There’s Effie, or Haymitch. They do some formal counselling. Or maybe Annie could help, she has a background in this and she knows a lot--”

“For you?” I interject, meeting his eyes with my own.

“I could talk to Haymitch some more. I think he kind of gave up on me a while ago though,” he laughs awkwardly, his voice slightly higher than normal. My mind flashes back to the looks Haymitch had given me at Safe Booty and again just today when Peeta had come to see if everything was alright. It starts to makes sense, maybe, that Peeta had confided in Haymitch much more than I had realized and there were probably some things that neither of them were telling me.

“I think you could probably still talk to him about it.” I force my smile and wrap my arms around his shoulders until our faces are almost touching. “And I’ll talk more to Annie, if that makes it better.”

“Yeah. That might help. But I can’t promise--”

“It’s okay. This, um, relationship part is new for us both and there’s no denying we have other things we’re thinking about. We’ll figure it out as we go,” I finish for him and shift until I’m sitting with my whole body wrapped around him. I can feel his face burrowed into my shoulder, our bodies holding close to each other and finding comfort that once seemed so distant.

I knew this was going to be hard – I never really shied away from that – but maybe I hadn’t realized just how hard this relationship and intimacy thing could be. With Peeta being positive and my negative status, adding on our own personal hang-ups, we both needed to be open with each other before we could even think about the complicated side of having sex.

Despite knowing the mountain we had to climb before us, my eyes still catch sight of the foil packages Johanna gave me and I can’t help but smile. Eventually we will get there; it just might take us a bit longer.

“Hey Peeta?” I whisper a little while later, my body melting under the touch of his fingers as they glide over my skin.

“Mhmm?” Smiling, I reach until my lips are beside his ear, my words light.

“Since we’re not ready for sex, do you think we could still, um, explore?” When I pull away from him his grin is lopsided, his head nodding slowly.

“I think that can definitely be arranged in the meantime.” Lunging towards me we fall together against the pillows and become a mess of limbs and hushed sighs.

* * *

I wake up to the heavy squeak of a door opening, a voice hushing another and footsteps stumbling. When my mind fully comes to, my body awakening in Peeta’s arms, I still and wait for the intruder to come through the door.

I’m ready to pounce.

“Ow! Dammit!” Prim’s voice rings out and I sit up abruptly, jerking Peeta into a wakened confused state with my movement. Before I know it I’m climbing over him to get to the door and stumbling into the hallway in his t-shirt, my body half bare from our explorations after our talk.

“Prim!” I squeal, my face flaming. I pull the shirt down on my hips just realizing what I’m wearing and how I’m nearly naked in front of Prim and her friend Rue from the centre. The shock courses through me; surprise and embarrassment mixing and making my cheeks burn.

“Well, this is super awkward Katniss,” Prim says lowly, motioning with her hand first towards me and then towards Peeta who is now stumbling up behind me clad in only his boxers.

“What the--” Peeta grumbles, rubbing his eyes. The four of us stand frozen, our eyes all averted as the moment seizes.

“Well, hey there Mr Goodlooking,” Rue jokes and whistles a cat-call, breaking the tense moment with a laugh.

“Can you put some pants on, please?” Prim asks after a second and I don’t wait before dashing back into the room to pull on some sweatpants. Peeta follows behind me dazedly, his arm outreached for his shirt that I trade him for a sweater he pulls from a drawer.

“What’s she doing home?” he asks and I frown, shaking my head.

“No idea – your guess is as good as mine. Come on,” I take him by the hand once we’re clothed and lead us towards the kitchen where Prim is putting together some tea and Rue is freely sitting on the counter with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest,” Prim says facing away from us, her hands busy at the stove. I know my sister and in that moment I’m not sure which of us is more embarrassed.

“It wasn’t--” I start.

“It was just sleeping,” Peeta finishes and walks into the kitchen with a new-found confidence as he leans against the cupboards. I watch as Rue slips him a sly smile, her gaze unabashedly sliding up his frame.

“Rue!” Prim jerks her arm into her friend who laughs and slips off the counter to pull some mugs down.

“Sorry, but Peeta, I didn’t know you were so fit. You can’t blame me for looking!” She laughs heartily, handing each of us a mug. I try to recall what I know about the girl, apart from her beautiful dark skin and her bright smile. Prim had told me once she had described herself as a ‘lifer’, that she’d been diagnosed at birth after her mother passed it on unwittingly to her during the pregnancy. At the time, I had almost been glad Prim had befriended someone who knew the ropes, until I’d realized how sad that fact was and I kicked myself for even thinking it.

Now I was just glad she had someone she could talk to.

“Finnick is sick,” Prim starts, pulling all of our attention back to her as she pours hot water in our cups.

“Wait, what?” I look to Peeta whose face pales at the comment.

“He was having a hard time breathing and was all woozy. Annie thinks it might be the flu still so she cancelled everything and put us all in the van to come home. I think maybe she took him to the ER or something tonight.”

“The flu?” Peeta asks, interrupting as he sets his mug down. I watch him carefully as he tenses, his hands clasped together tightly.

“Yeah, she didn’t say much but it’s weird given the symptoms and all the--” Prim starts, the wheels practically visible as they turn in her brain.

“I need to go.” Peeta quickly steps around us until he’s heading towards my room, disappearing and reappearing with his stuff.

“Where are you going? Peeta, it’s 2am!” I hiss as he pulls on his shoes. He looks up at me and I catch sight of the fear in his eyes as he looks at me.

“Finnick and I, we’re really close Katniss. If he’s sick I need to see him,” he answers as he double knots his laces.

“But--”

“I’m worried – the last time I saw him he said it was just allergies but if Finn is... I don’t want to overreach here, I just need to talk to him. Come with? I know it’s late but you can crash at mine after. Looks like Prim and Rue are going to be up all night anyways,” Peeta motions back towards the kitchen where Prim and Rue are already talking animatedly as though they’ll never sleep. I chew my lip for a second, debating whether I should go or not, but the decision in the end is easy. Go with Peeta? Then spend the night at his place? Sure. Hands down.

“Let me get something else to wear.” I disappear back into the room and quickly pull on more public appropriate clothes, a pair of jeans and an easy t-shirt. Heading back out into the main room I turn to Prim and give her a look that begs her not to ask what she’s thinking. “Did you know that this was happening?” I motion towards the new bedroom, my eyebrows raised.

“Maybe...” Prim responds, a sly smile on her lips.

“Oh…” I pause, understanding that Prim had been part of the master plan to give me some privacy. Inside I feel a rush of affection for her, the smile coming to my lips with ease. “Thank you for that.”

“You deserve the big girl room for once. Trust me on this. I’ve been asking you to move in there for weeks you just haven’t listened to me!” Prim responds and I step towards her, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I think Peeta is chomping at the bit to go,” she whispers into my ear, patting my back and then pushing me away. “I’ll see you later. See ya Peeta!”

I turn to find Peeta holding my shoes and looking at me with a smile that knows just how touched I am by my sister’s actions.

“Have a good night guys, try not to overdose on cookies or something,” Peeta laughs and guides me through the door and out into the dark night of the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm going away for about 10 days and I'm trying to knock out 25 before I post 20 so please stick with me. I love you guys, thanks for sticking it out with me!


	20. Chapter 20

“Hey Annie,” Peeta speaks into his cell, his steps quick as they pace back and forth outside of my apartment building.

Despite the hour, the fresh air has livened me up and my eyes are bright as they watch the street before me, taking in the quiet while Peeta figures out where Finnick is. I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing here, following Peeta on this mission of his, but I know I can give him the support he needs, whatever it may be.

“Yeah? Memorial? Okay. Katniss and I are going to - Yeah, Katniss – “ I look up at mention of my name and find Peeta watching me, his smile broad. “I’ll be sure to tell her. See you soon.”

Getting to my feet, I watch as he ends the conversation with Annie and then makes a call for a cab. Once he’s finished, he reaches for me, his arms outstretched and fingers pulling at my arms.

“What were you guys talking about me for?” I mumble against his chest as I take his offer and enter his embrace.

“Oh, not much. She was surprised to hear we were um... hanging out at this hour, is all.”

Looking up at him, I grin sheepishly and let my hands settle around his waist. “Oh is that all?”

“Mhmm. And she wants to do lunch with me sometime this week to talk _all_ about it.” He laughs at that, letting me deal with those nerves as they come rushing towards me. I know I _said_ that maybe talking to Annie would be good, but the very idea of it right now is making me almost woozy.

When the cab arrives, Peeta requests our destination as Memorial Hospital and sits back in the cracking leather seat, his hands clasped together in his lap as I lean my head against his shoulder. I can practically feel the tension radiating from him as we let the silence of the ride wash over us. Instead of pushing a conversation he doesn’t seem to want to have, I let my mind wander to the situation at hand. Peeta had mentioned before that Finnick and he were close, that perhaps he knew more than he was letting on and that’s why he was worried. I know that if it were me and Prim were in the hospital, I’d likely be a wreck right now and all I can think to do is be here for him if he needs me. Pulling up to the emergency entrance, I grip Peeta’s hand in mine and lead us into the building.

Inside, the chairs are empty except for an older gentleman who looks to be sleeping something off and the lone nurse working at the triage desk. When Peeta continues to hesitate, his gusto from before gone, I head to the triage desk and request Finnick Odair’s bed number.

“It’s not visiting hours, miss,” the woman explains, her attention steered towards her nails as she files them absently.

I grit my teeth at her response and lean forward. “His brother here would like to see him – family can see registered patients, can’t they?” The woman turns to me, her gaze sweeping up and down Peeta’s stocky frame.

“I’m sorry but – “

“Katniss!” Annie breaks in, coming through the security doors with a bag of chips in hand. Approaching us quickly, she wraps her arm around my shoulders and pulls me in for a tight hug before doing the same for Peeta. “I’m surprised you guys came so quickly, to be honest,” she states quietly and steers us towards the chairs to sit.

“Well, it’s not every day something like this happens,” Peeta responds, his voice tight as his eyes bounce around the room. Annie seems to notice and I watch as her fingers wrap around his and squeeze.

“You can go back and see him. I think he’s still up making the night nurse swoon hoping to get a private room.” Peeta nods and gets to his feet quickly, approaching the desk before being waived through by the irritated nurse. I watch the exchange with concern, a mix of uncertainty and confusion about Peeta’s change in demeanor filling my thoughts.

“So, forgive my bluntness here Katniss, but are you guys already sleeping together? I mean, it’s not a bad thing! Don’t get me wrong I –“ Annie’s words break into my thoughts and I turn abruptly to face her head on, the blood draining from my face.

How could she possibly know these things?

“Huh?” Is all I can manage to get out before her light laugh fills the air.

“Okay I’m going to go with no. That’s cool too. I figured with Peeta... Oh, I don’t know, I don’t want to assume. We can talk about it later. I’m glad you came because now you can keep me company.” She finishes with a huff of air, as though she’d been holding it while she spoke and only now could finally relax. Recognizing the way her eyes glass over, the way her shoulders bunch around her neck, I motion to the back of the waiting room where the TV blares commercials and drag her towards it.

“I remember this infomercial!” I state with false excitement as we fall heavily into the chairs and see the advertisement for a new kitchen accessory called the ‘Slapper’. My memory recalls the time I’d watched this infomercial back at school during one of my late night study sessions – it seems so much longer now.

“I actually have one of those,” Annie adds, surprising me and causing me to turn and look at her with shock written all over my face.

“You do? Does it work?” I try to continue on with the distracting conversation, trying to talk about anything other than the fact that we’re sitting in a hospital waiting room at an ungodly hour while someone we care for is sick. Annie seems to pick up on my motives and soon enough we’re discussing our favourite TV commercials and the never-ending barrage of infomercials that happen late at night.

When Peeta returns a little while later I can see the wariness in his eyes, the exhaustion starting to set in as he strides towards us.

“They’ve moved him upstairs to a semi-private room, 446A. He said you should go home and get some sleep Annie, maybe come back in the morning?” He informs us, moving to sit on my other side. I can feel his body heat beside me and I want to curl up in his lap and try to soothe the worries that plague him about his friend.

“I don’t know, I should go up and say goodnight at least,” Annie replies lowly, her voice quiet and faraway, almost as though she were afraid to go upstairs. Instinctively I take her hand and hold it in mine, my gaze steady on her.

“Go say goodnight and then head home. You’ll sleep a lot better in your bed than a chair and you can rest up and come back tomorrow. Trust me, they won’t let him just wander out of here,” I finish and we all let off a little laugh at the idea.

“Sounds like a plan – will I see you tomorrow Peeta?” She asks as we all get to our feet.

“Of course. I’ll bring him in some puzzle books or something from the centre. Try to get some sleep?” Peeta adds in parting and Annie nods before disappearing through the security doors.

After she’s gone, Peeta doesn’t hesitate to pull me against him, his arms encircling me and holding me tight to his chest. I can feel the deep breaths and the heat of him, a calming reminder that this is _real_ , that Peeta and I are _something_.

“Let’s go get some sleep,” I state just above a whisper, my body staying pressed to his.

“Yeah. Okay.”

* * *

“So, can I ask why...” I start quietly, my gaze locked on the ceiling above us.

Peeta and I had returned to his apartment after visiting the hospital, cuddling up on his bed and keeping each other company before sleep overcame us. But it didn’t seem to, not before I gave in to the questions that were popping around in my head like balloons.

“Why I’m freaked out?” He counters, shifting to face me.

“Yeah, and why you needed to see him so suddenly. I thought maybe there was something more that I might need to know, or you might want to share to get it off your chest?” The silence that greets me seems to answer my questions until Peeta pulls me close to him in a tight grip.

“I know Finn probably the best out of anyone. I was there for everything between him and Annie, he’s been there for me when I needed him to be. I... Know his bad habits and how he makes ends meet...”

“Are you telling me – “ I start, hesitant to hear his words as they’re mumbled against my chest. I don’t know if I want to know Finnick’s secrets, do I? I pull away from him and sit up, forcing this conversation to be one had face-to-face, not hiding in shirts as the sun comes up around us. If we’re going to talk about this, I want Peeta to know I can handle hearing about whatever he has to say. I want him to see me seriously, to see I’m here for him.

I’m glad then when he moves to sit up as well, his legs curling before him as his nails pick at his knuckles.

“He has a bad habit of not taking his medications. Of giving them to Annie when money gets tight when they can’t afford two prescriptions because they’re on the same treatment plan. She apparently doesn’t know either– don’t ask me how but he swears she doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s wrecking his insides though, you know? If you don’t take your meds the way you’re supposed to, if you don’t take them consistently, they don’t work like they’re supposed to. The virus gets smart; figures out ways to get around the meds and you get sick. And Finnick – he might have good intentions but he keeps fucking around with this.” Moving his hands before him exasperatedly, Peeta goes on to explain that Finnick doesn’t practice what he preaches – that he flirts with what the doctors tell him because he thinks he’s invincible. “And you know, with the amount of times he’s scraped by, he probably has one damn lucky charm on him. But it’s going to get him killed one day. And I’m really starting to think it will be soon.”

The sun peaking through the blinds, casting drawn shadows across us as we sit on his bed, the idea seems to haunt our thoughts. I wait for Peeta to continue on, to further release his tension with his words, but he remains quiet as he looks at his palms resting, finally, in his lap.

“Why do you think it’ll be soon?” I ask quietly, leaning forward and pressing my finger beneath his chin. When his head tilts up towards me I can see the emotions in his eyes, the fear and anger and frustration at his friend’s actions coursing through him. The worry that plagues him.

“Because he’s actually sick this time. It’s not just allergies or a cold. The doctors think he has PJP and he’s finally going to get that AIDS diagnosis. At least it will help them get better funding…if it doesn’t kill him,” he finishes with a frustrated choked laugh.

His words seem to rock me to my core, the bare minimum of understanding I have about what he’s said breeds a coldness in my blood. PJP, pneumocystis pneumonia, is one of those illnesses that latch on and takes advantage of a ravaged immune system, causing havoc for the infected. It’s the kind of sickness that falls into the ‘opportunistic infections’ category in all the pamphlets and puts the diagnosed patient on the AIDS side of HIV. A normal person can’t get it because their immune system prevents the creepy parasite from sticking around, but for people with HIV it can be life threatening.

Finnick is _sick_ sick.

“I don’t know what to do, Katniss,” Peeta murmurs when I don’t say anything. His words squeeze at my heart, their desperate sadness encroaching on me. When I look up and meet his gaze, still reeling from everything, I know there’s not much more I can do that just be here for him right now.

And hope for the odds are in our favour.


	21. Chapter 21

It's been a week since Finnick entered the hospital. One long week of Peeta spending his evenings there while I continue to work extra hours to save up more money and pay off more bills. I won't lie, the money we've received to help with the medications has been wonderful, taking a load off of my shoulders that I hadn't appreciated until it was gone. But now it seems like the weight of Finnick's illness has simply slipped into its spot, gripping at the edges of my thoughts.

I know too that I'm not the only one that's feeling drawn – everyone at the centre seems to be holding onto hope that Finnick will start to get better and soon be released. At least, everyone but Haymitch.

My appointment today with him has been riddled with undercurrents of frustration and anger, all easily directed at Finnick and his 'fool's choices', as Haymitch describes them. I try not to focus on it but it's hard when his caustic remarks make me want to fire back angry retorts.

"You know, if he hadn't been so stupid this wouldn't be happening," he mutters to his computer as he scrolls through more files. I sit on my hands and look at the dying plant on his desk, a remnant of something he'd likely been given to cheer him up. "Or if Peeta had just spoke up about it we all could have confronted him on how stupid he was being. Damn them both!"

"Peeta didn't want to betray his friend," I reply lowly. When I look up, Haymitch is glaring at me, his hands flat on the desk beside his keyboard and ignoring his search for my file.

"Girl, you're still too new to this to really understand, but this behaviour leaves ripples in our community and-"

"I do understand, more than you think!" I shout, interrupting his snide words and sitting up a little taller. I can't sit back and be belittled by this man, not when we're all hurting for the same reason.

"Oh yeah? You think you know everything since you've been here for what, a year? You don't know anything and you're just stirring the pot, like everyone else. You think you and Peeta are going to make it? Ha! You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve that boy and oh – now you're going to give me that look like a kicked puppy. Well tough; not everything is roses and you trying to make it with a guy who doesn't even know how to like himself is not helping anyone. You're just a stupid girl-"

My hands snapping hard against the desk, their crack resonating around the room and up my arms leaves us both frozen to our seats, words stalled in our throats. Meeting Haymitch's eyes I can't miss the burn of pain and fear that hides behind his facade. Taking a deep breath, I focus in on what was said before I open my mouth to respond.

"I'm not stupid and I sure as hell am not naive to this illness, Haymitch. I might be learning the ropes but you damn well know that everyone learns them this way and you're not being fair to hold that against me. If you're mad about Finnick, go be mad at him, but I came here today to get an update on my finances, not to be judged by you. And besides that, what Peeta and I have is between us, and only us. You don't get to tell us what we're doing is wrong because it's not – you're not our parents and you sure as hell are not in our relationship. Now can we please just get back to these damn documents so I can go home?"

My breath comes out in a huff as I finish, almost as if I'd used it to puff myself up when I was spewing my rant. Looking back towards Haymitch, I watch him stare back at me with a blank look on his face before he returns to facing the computer.

The meeting continues on with very little said between us, quick questions answered with few words. When finally we finish I stand to leave, desperate to escape the tension filled room, I'm stalled by my name.

"Katniss, wait. I didn't mean to insult you. You're doing a good job here for your sister. But Peeta – he's a good kid. I've watched out for him since his brother brought him in fresh from rehab and he's had to fight to get to where he is now. The boy has demons that are serious, beyond either of us, and anyone with him needs to think about that long and hard. He's had a hard time coming around to this disease and with everything going on, I don't want you to do anything to upset that balance for him. Hear me?" he finishes and I let his words sink in.

His sentiment, though brash, aligns with all of those questioning looks he's given me whenever Peeta and I are together. Haymitch means well, but still doesn't give me the benefit of the doubt for how I'll be with Peeta and that hurts, no matter where he's coming from.

"I hear you," I answer quietly, not wanting to argue any more before I leave the office, walking quickly past Johanna's calls for my attention.

I don't turn back when I leave the centre, my back up in defence as I walk quickly in the direction of home. The whole meeting has made me uncomfortable, targeting in on my own thoughts and burrowing into my problems like a sliver. Halfway to my apartment building I make an abrupt turn. Sending a quick message to Prim, informing her that I'll be heading to Peeta's and not to expect me for the evening. Then picking up my pace, I head towards his place, determined to get there before he does.

* * *

"You're at my door," Peeta states oddly, shuffling his backpack in his hands before grabbing his keys from his pocket. I barely wait for him to unlock the door before I'm grabbing at his lapels and reaching my mouth up to his. After all that's seemed to happen over the last week, with Finnick sick and now this conversation with Haymitch, I want even more to be with Peeta and affirm my relationship with him.

Together we stumble through the doorway and into his loft, catching our feet on the carpet and nearly falling to the floor.

"Woah, woah," Peeta gasps, breaking away for a moment and brushing the hair out of his face. His smile is crooked and questioning and all I can do is grin in return. "Well, this is a nice surprise. What brought you over here?"

"Just wanted to see my best friend. With everything going on, I haven't seen you that much and I missed you, maybe. Just a little," I reply, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him close. The heat of him surrounds me, his palms coming to rest on my hips and burning holes to my center.

"I've missed you too. A little. Maybe," he counters and leans in to kiss me, a slow burn that nearly makes my toes curl.

"Oh hello, little bro and... Friend?" a voice calls out, breaking between us and causing me to jump back in surprise. I look up to find a Peeta-look-alike leaning in the open doorway with a smirk on his face.

"You're early, for once," Peeta grumbles and grabs hold of my hand before I can bolt to hide the embarrassment that courses through me. "Katniss, this is Rye. Rye, Katniss."

I look up to meet Peeta's brother, the one who'd always been there for him and who had helped him when no others would, and try to smile.

"Well shit, Peet, she's good looking too. Goddamn you," Rye sounds, stepping towards me with his hand held outward. "Katniss, great to meet you. Peet here hasn't stopped talking about you since you first came around."

I take his hand in mine lightly, uncertain about how much he knows and whether he's going to be against me like Haymitch seems to be.

"We were, um, actually going to go grab some dinner - did you want to come with us?" Peeta asks, turning to me with a questioning look. I take a moment and look between the two, debating whether I'd made the right decision to come over and if I'm imposing. When I find smiles from both, as well as curiosity from Rye, I shrug.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Great, let me change my shirt and we can head out," Peeta states, leaning in for a quick kiss before jogging down the hall to his room. When he's disappeared, I turn to Rye and smile awkwardly, unsure of what to say to this man who has done so much for Peeta.

I don't have to be silent long.

"So, are you positive too? Peeta won't tell me," he asks outright and I sputter, surprised at the forward way he's asked and done a social faux-pas from what I've learned about this community.

"I - uh… No, I'm not," I reply weakly and turn my face towards Peeta's room, ready to back out of this dinner. Not sure if I want to deal with this tonight.

"Oh, really? How's that working? Are you guys being safe? Please tell me you are!" Rye continues, his voice still upbeat despite his questions invading mine and Peeta's privacy.

"Maybe that's not for me to talk about?" I try to answer, desperate to avoid this conversation, but Rye only laughs and slaps me on the shoulder jovially.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I'm just pushing boundaries. It's what I do, especially when it comes to this kid. He _never_ talks about people he's dating so this is big to me." Trying to smile, I'm sure it comes out as a grimace. "Seriously, Katniss, I'm sorry if I've offended you - "

"Rye, seriously? What the hell did you say in the one minute I left you alone? For the record, your brother has been too pathetic to be dating so it wasn't that I was lying to you or anything," Peeta breaks in, thankfully returning from his room while still buttoning up his shirt.

"Sure, that's what you say! But don't worry brother, I only put my foot in my mouth again. Standard invasive questions and diarrhea of my words. Manageable."

I look between the two of them curiously as Peeta smacks his brother upside the head with a smile on his lips. The action seems almost affectionate, in a weird kind of way.

"You okay?" Peeta asks, turning from his brother to me. I nod and put on a smile.

"Yeah, just some dickish questions but I'll survive," I joke hesitantly. Peeta grins wider and looks to his brother.

"She's got your number. Better watch out."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Can we go eat? I missed lunch and I'm starving."

Without another word, we head out down to street level and onto the nearest diner. All the time walking, Peeta keeps my hand in his, swinging them back and forth in a more upbeat mood than I'd seen him in since this whole mess with Finnick began.

After following the waitress, we all push into a booth and scan the menu, quickly picking out and ordering our food.

"So, Peeta," Rye starts, breaking into conversation, "How's Finnick?"

I turn to watch Peeta at his brother's question, so out of the blue and without warning. I'm quickly starting to realize that Rye isn't one to hold back with his words.

"He's not too good. He can't keep his oxygen levels up and he's breathing too fast. Still cracks jokes like a wise guy though. Says the doctors are making him wear an oxygen mask because his face is too pretty and he's stealing their nurses," Peeta responds lowly, his fingers picking at his nails, avoiding my gaze. I reach over and hold his hand in mine, drawing his attention to me instead of his cuticles.

"I'm sorry," Rye adds, reaching over and clapping him on the shoulder. When he sits back, his gaze is analytical, searching his brother's face for something. "Have you gone to a meeting lately?" he asks quietly, leaning forward and darting his eyes between us. I can tell from the way he's asked that a part of him was unsure of what I know about his brother already.

"Earlier this week," Peeta replies, shocking me and causing me to sit back a bit in surprise. Peeta doesn't miss the movement and turns to me with a guilty look in his eyes. "I'm sorry -" he starts and I shake my head, dismissing his apology.

"It's okay. Just, you can tell me about these things, you know that right?"

My words feel sour in my mouth, a little troubled that he hadn't thought I should know what he was dealing with. I would have supported him, I'm sure of that.

"Yeah, I just didn't want to bother you with it," he adds, not meeting my gaze and instead focusing on his thumb as it brushes across the back of my hand. I let it drop, nodding and shifting a touch closer to Peeta before turning back to Rye.

"Now that you've blurted out everything, let's talk uncomfortably about you for a while," I start, a sly smile on my lips and Rye grins sheepishly back at me.

"That sounds like a plan. What would you like to know?"

"When did you last get laid?"

Even as the words slip out of my mouth I can feel my cheeks burning with the embarrassment from the question, too late to take it back now. Beside me, Peeta let's out a guffaw and Rye sits back, his posture wolfish as though lying in wait.

"Less than 24 hours, but who's counting?" he responds leisurely and I nearly choke on my drink.

The conversation from then on is hilarious, my sides hurting from the laughter caused by these two and their childhood stories that Rye insists on sharing. We talk about everything from Rye's boring office job to his frequent one night stands that he attributes to Barney Stinson's "Bro Code" and his insistence on suits. He even dives into a rendition of his favourite filthy story that he belts out along with the broadway tune that accompanies it.

The evening is a good one, and well deserved. It helps to see some lightness back in Peeta's eyes during this time that's drawing on him. At one point, I even take a moment on my way back from the washroom to observe the brothers and see the ease with which they communicate. Thick as thieves, I have to assume they were back as youths, before everything went out the window with Peeta and his injury.

I'm thankful then, for Rye and the way he's been there for Peeta so that we would one day meet and be here in this time. Despite everything that's going on, I'm glad I've found him and that he's found me. A bright light in the encompassing darkness.

Afterwards, as Rye is leaving us at Peeta's stoop, I'm surprised when he pulls me in for a tight hug.

"You two take care of eachother, you hear?" he whispers into my ear. I nod and pull back, turning to Peeta who hasn't stopped smiling pretty much all night. When Rye moves to pull him into a hug, Peeta holds on for an extra second, the words Rye says to him muffled in his collar. Finally pulling apart, Peeta brushes at his face and then takes my hand tightly in his.

"See you in a month," Rye states and turns away, heading down the street on foot. "You too Katniss!" he shouts just as we're about to step through the doors to Peeta's building. I laugh and look to Peeta whose smile is nostalgic.

"He likes to check in every month on the supposed day of my sobriety - it's weird but kind of touching, from him. He's a good brother," Peeta states, looking at me and seemingly searching for my judgement. I nod and pull him in for a hug of my own, my fingers gripping his shirt tightly.

"He's great," I state honestly before reaching up on my tip-toes to whisper in his ear. "I love you, Peeta," I breath, holding tight. The truth feels good to finally say aloud, to share with him now that I've realized it. His body stiffens slightly in surprise before he pulls me up into his arms, my feet lifting off the ground.

"I love you too," he replies gruffly and places me back on the floor before pulling my face to his in a fervent kiss. "I think I have since I met you. Since you first walked into _Posi+ive_. It's always been you," he adds, his body moving us towards the staircase and closer to his loft.

We make quick work of the stairs, our bodies crashing into one another as we reach his living room.

I hadn't really expected this when I'd come over earlier - not meeting Rye, not telling Peeta I that I loved him or even stumbling into his bedroom together as he pulls off my shirt.

No, I'd come here expecting to lament about my problems and maybe have a cuddle party. But this…

"This is so much better," I hiss in between breaths as Peeta, kneeling before me, nuzzles my belly button.

"Hmm?" he asks from before me and I sigh contently, sliding down until we're level with one another.

"I said this is better than what I'd expected when I came over," I repeat. Peeta grins and brushes my stray hairs back from my face.

"I want… I want to do this with you. To have sex. But only if you want to. And it's okay if you don't. I mean, I'm scared shitless right now, but I still want it. I want _you_. Katniss," he heaves a breath and closes his eyes tightly as I process his words, "I want to _be_ with you. But I need to know that you understand what this could mean. That things could be different after."

I swallow the spit in my mouth, the dry nerves making it hard.

Do I want this?

Can I handle this?

If something does go wrong… Will I be okay with it?

The questions attack me like battering waves from the sea but then Peeta is there, his fingers against my cheek holding me still and I know.

"I understand and I still want this. Nothing will go wrong, but even if it did… Peeta you've shown me that it can be okay. You and everyone at the centre, even now with what's happening to Finnick and Annie, that's life, that's how it is no matter if you're positive or not. People get sick and things are hard but if I have you - well, nothing can take that from me. Life can be lived with HIV. Sleeping with you, being with you - you're not some life-ending choice. You're the risk I'm willing to take with my heart, with everything that I am. You're worth it. Okay?" I finish breathless, my words having fallen from me with a faltering grace but still true none-the-less.

I don't need Peeta to respond. Not with the way his eyes glow in the light of the setting sun or the way his hands pull me to him until our lips are crashing together.

Standing up, we move in sync towards the bed, peeling off our remaining clothes until our skin is bare and we're exploring one another. I let Peeta take the lead as his lips drag down my torso, his hands burning a trail that feels like an expert's touch. My body catches fire with every hot breath against my skin and every scrape of fresh stubble.

His tongue tasting and his lips pulling at my flesh, his light breath against my hot center causes my toes to curl and I have to pull the sheets to me to keep from falling apart.

When Peeta returns from his exploration and presses his lips to mine I nearly melt into the bed, so hot that I'm becoming liquid in his hands. I know then that it isn't so much the fact that I've been without sex for quite some time, it's that its Peeta doing this to me.

Peeta tearing down his walls and facing his fears for me, the thought spins inside of me and my heart blooms almost until bursting.

"Can I just - " Peeta interrupts my fuzzy thoughts, his voice curling around us. "It's been - uh - a long time. And it might - " I place my fingers to his lips, stopping the words I know he'd wanted to say.

"It doesn't matter," I reply quietly.

And it doesn't. Not as I move and he follows, my body reaching for the bedside table and scrounging for the condoms I'm hoping to God he has. Fingers landing upon foil, I pull one loose and shift until I'm straddling his thighs, my hands shaking with every movement.

Peeta doesn't make me struggle long before he takes the condom from me and sheaths himself. Looking down, I meet his gaze and nod, affirming that I want this, not needing words.

His length spears me, my body stretching to accommodate him and aching sweetly at the pressure. I hear Peeta hiss out a breath, feel his hands on my hips holding me steady before I begin to move. Slowly at first, everything uncertain.

We move together in a jumbled mess of quick breaths and seeking touches. My hands find their way to his broad shoulders, my nails digging in as I let him push up into me in frantic juts until he's sitting up, clinging to me tightly and his face lost against my shoulder. Together we hold on as our bodies mesh and begin hurtling towards the edge of bliss.

What seems like forever in our world speeds by in reality and before I can truly understand it, my body is crashing fast, sliding over the edge and pulling Peeta along with me until all that remains is our heavy panting and a mix of limbs and sweat.

Laying back down to recover, I move closer to Peeta as he disposes of the used condom. I watch as he ties off the end and wraps it in tissue, tossing it in the trash can before looking at his hands for a moment.

"Be right back," he mutters and slides out of the room leaving the bed to cool without his heat. I shiver slightly, watching the door as I hear the shower turn on.

The realization that he can't talk to me about what he's doing right now makes me pause. Does he really feel that uncomfortable with what we'd just done? I want to join him, to talk to him until he'll tell me, but I'm afraid of pushing him too far. So instead I wait in the bed, my thoughts moving anxiously until the shower stops and heavy footsteps return to the room. When Peeta once again crawls in next to me his skin is damp.

"Hey," he murmurs, his fingers drifting across my cheek. I try to force a smile but it's unsure, tight, and causes him to frown. "Katniss," he tries.

I close my eyes and try to pull myself together, to get past the hurt that has filled me with his leaving.

"Katniss, look at me. Please. I just wanted to make sure. I didn't mean - "

"You didn't mean to what? Instantly regret what we've just done?" I interrupt his apology, my tone harder than I had expected.

"It's not - I don't regret it. Not for a moment. I wanted to be _clean_ for you-"

His words make my face burn and I have to sit up, determined to make him see.

"You aren't dirty, Peeta!" I nearly shout, my body shaking with nerves. "We're being safe, yes, but you can't keep thinking the worst or we're never going to survive this. I need you to think about what you know, about the precautions you know that work and what is and isn't possible in transmission cases. You helped teach me this," I finish quietly and pull in a breath to calm myself.

Peeta sits up to meet me, his head hanging and his fingers picking at his nails again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. I take his hands in mine and hold them tightly, my lips pressing a kiss to them.

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry, I let it get away from me. But I just want you to see yourself for who you are and not be so afraid of your own body. We just had sex. We're both okay. We were safe and we both wanted it. Right?" I question and Peeta looks up quickly, his head nodding.

"Yes. Of course."

"Good then. Now, can we lay down and just… talk?" Peeta's abrupt kiss and the way he threads his fingers through my tousled hair tells me that the distance between us isn't as far as my worrying thoughts had grown.

When sleep finally overtakes me that night I'm surrounded by Peeta's warmth and his sweet kisses, and our bond is tighter than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It's for real, we've completed the last chapter! Can you believe it? No, this one isn't the end. There's still 5 more so stick with us! Remember, any questions, concerns, just drop them in the comment box or PM. Love you guys!


	22. Chapter 22

It happens quickly.

With the blare of a ringing tone and the sleep blur still in my eyes I roll over to see Peeta palming around for his phone, his torso exposed to the early morning light that creeps through the windows.

The moment catches my attention and in my daze I smile and watch the smooth planes of his back move remembering my nails scraping along them but a few hours earlier.

"Hello?" Peeta grumbles into the phone.

The mood is broken. Another second passes and I'm alone in the bed, cold and confused as Peeta begins grabbing for his jeans on the floor and talking rapidly into the phone in his hand.

"Yes, I can be there soon. I'll be right there - no, I'm on my way," he repeats over and over, as though the person on the other end is incapable of understanding him. My stomach clenches in response, the meaning coming at me hard and fast, too impossible to believe. "No, it's - "

I can hear the other end of the phone as the noise rips at my heart. Peeta pauses where he stands, one foot in his jeans and his hand holding the waistband limply. His shoulders shake and when he looks at me I can see the pain coursing through him, his body barely able to continue to stand.

I go to him. My hands shaking as they brush at the tears on his cheeks, my hand gripping the phone and bringing it to my ear to listen to Annie mumble on about how it's time. How it's now. How she is not ready.

"We're on our way," I urge and hang up the phone, holding Peeta's head and forcing him to look at me. "Let's get dressed and we'll go, okay?" I murmur quietly, nodding my head to convince myself. Peeta nods and leans in to place his forehead against mine, his breaths shaking.

"Please stay with me," he asks quietly.

"Always," is my simple reply and we stand there together for a moment longer.

We get dressed in relative silence, the light peeking through the window and casting an eerie glow across us. Outside, we flag down a cab and crawl in the back. Peeta sits close to me, his hand tightly clasping mine. I lean against his side wishing we were anywhere but here, anywhere but this time in space where this is happening.

"I wanted to make french toast this morning. And have mimosas. I saved a cheap bottle of sparkling wine for it and everything. This… This is the worst way to wake up after what we did last night…" Peeta mutters under his breath, barely audible to me.

His words breathe a chill down my spine; another sign that he regrets last night.

I try to swallow the rock that's formed in my throat, the sting of tears pricking at my eyes as I look down to where our hands are resting together.

In truth, I don't regret a moment from last night. Finally sleeping with Peeta will never be something I regret, no matter the risk. It was right then, and it's right now. But I can't push it. Not now. Despite how the thought plagues me, I know that what Peeta is facing right now - losing his best friend - is a bigger wound than I could even imagine.

When the cab arrives at the hospital we're slow to slide out, standing and staring up at the entrance for a moment before heading inside. I hold Peeta's hand tightly in mine, desperate to be his lifeline as we make our way upstairs.

It's not long after we pass through the ward doors that we can hear the chaos from down the hall, the sounds slamming into me like fists.

Peeta stalls at the noise, freezing in place.

"I can't…," he moans aloud, his voice cracking. Looking up at him, I press my hand to his cheek and lift up to place a kiss to his lips.

But he turns his cheek and I miss.

I try to shove it down, to push away the hurt that blossoms through me at his rejection, but the sting is too strong and I have to look away.

"Come on," I command gently, leading him forward and into Finnick's room. Looking towards the bedside we see Annie clinging to it, a nurse standing ready, monitoring Finnick's decline.

The scene makes me sick to my stomach and I clench my hand tighter around Peeta's fingers.

"Peeta!" Annie cries out, looking up from the unconscious form that is Finnick. I see Finnick's body move with his agonal breaths and I can't take it.

I can't watch him die.

I cover my mouth, witnessing the final breaths of this man, this strong, beautiful person who cannot die. Not now.

"They won't help him!" Annie shrieks, holding onto Finnick's hand while looking towards us.

"Miss, he has a do not resuscitate order," the nurse states from the corner, her voice calm. I look to see her face is compassionate but distant, as though she has seen this too many times before.

"Peeta, please, help me make them help him. He wants to live, I know he does," Annie pleads, getting up and moving towards him, tears mixing in a mess on her face, her skin flushed as the sobs overtake her again.

I watch as Peeta transforms from the terrified person I was dragging along, to a pillar of strength.

"It's time, Annie. He talked to us about it and you understood - he's doing this so you don't suffer. It's-"

"I can't live without him!" she screams and my heart breaks for her, my chest tightening as my own tears escape.

"Annie," he pleads in return, "he wouldn't want you to feel this way."

"I know he doesn't! He's still _alive_. I don't want to leave him," she screeches in between gasps for breath as she works herself up further. I watch as Peeta moves them to the side of the bed, gently guiding Annie back into the chair as he pulls his own closer right up next to her. The tears seem to come in a wave and soon Annie's gasping breaths are dulled by her resting her face against Finnick's hip.

Finally, the room is quiet but for the haggard breathing of our friend.

"Peeta," I whisper, picturing the same thing happening to me five years from now. Watching as Peeta struggles to breathe. As it happens to Prim - as her small frame withers away to the thin remnants that now make up Finnick's once full body.

The thoughts swirl and fight, my teeth biting through my bottom lip as I crush it between my teeth.

I want to run away. To escape this world and all of the death and sickness that is going to come for me eventually. The thought of having to bear this torture, time and again, and watch my loved ones leave me... I can't handle it.

Feeling Peeta pull away mentally, I wrap my arms around myself and try desperately to hold myself together knowing that it might be impossible to bear but I need to try for Peeta.

"Hey Finn," Peeta greets, reaching for his friend's hand. "I know you're still in there but I wanted to say it's okay now. I'll watch out for Annie and make sure she gets through this. She's strong, she's going to be okay. We all will. So it's okay to let go, you don't have to stick around longer if you need to move on."

With a nod to Peeta the doctor steps forward and starts whispering. I hear snatches of her soothing voice. Morphine for air hunger. Drops to stop the harsh gurgling that seems to be rattling in Finnick's throat. Some other drug for anxiety. Peeta nods mutely as he watches his best friends oxygen saturation drop. A nurse mercifully comes in and turns off the alarms from the machines Finnick is hooked up to. Stepping back against the wall I wish I could disappear, that I could be anywhere but here. But I stay because Peeta needs me and Annie is almost quiet in her suffering. Gradually the noises we heard when we came in seem to quiet until only our agony is left screaming like a banshee in the room.

Even as Finnick's gasping breaths seems to quiet.

Even as my heart beats seem to grow louder.

Even as Peeta's tears penetrate the deafening silence around me and burrow under my skin until all I can feel is the anguish that he feels, the loss of his best friend.

"Goddammit," a husky voice mutters from the doorway. I turn to see Haymitch standing there, his hands gripping to the frame and holding him up as he looks in on the scene before him. I know then that this must crush him to see Peeta and Annie hurting as Finnick fades, that his pain must be beyond anything I could comprehend because he's known these three for so very long.

The room seems to grow smaller with every passing second and I barely comprehend the doctor entering the room to note the time of death. Paralyzed, I watch her place a stethoscope on Finnick's immobile chest. Shine a pin light in his partially opened eyes before closing them forever. I stay tucked against the wall, my body curled into itself and my eyes watching Peeta as Haymitch stands behind him, hand placed upon his shoulder.

They'll have each other now, I convince myself before stepping outside of the room. In the hallway I have to grasp my knees to catch my breath, my lungs seemingly starved for air from being in that room and watching Finnick die.

The sounds of the hospital around me slowly start to sink in and when I look up I see myself in another room, my body huddled as Peeta's was, over my sister's small, pale, figure. The vision scares me and I have to shake my head until it clears, my eyes once again opening to an empty room before me.

As I stand in the hallway I try to focus on staying strong and keeping it together for Peeta. I know that he needs me, especially now, but I can't shake the fears I have that he's going to leave me just as Finnick left him. I can't get past the haunting looks of a gaunt Prim struggling to breathe.

I don't know if I can bear this weight upon my shoulders.

The time old question comes barreling back at me - can I handle this?

I don't think I can.

Before I even realize it, I'm walking away down the hallway and towards the elevator, my feet moving quickly as my thoughts race. My mind screams at me as I go, passing a patient resting on a bed in the hallway.

I should stay.

Peeta needs me.

I promised him.

And still I walk faster. The elevator dings and a man steps off with a coffee in hand that I nearly upturn as I step past him. My body tucked against the wall I hit the 'Close Door' button repeatedly until the metal starts to move.

I stare blankly through the closing gap, time nearly standing still, until I see a figure step out of Finnick's room.

Peeta.

I lurch forward and press the 'Open Door' button just as the crack closes, my heart suddenly in my throat as it really connects with me what I'm doing. I press the button frantically until the elevator starts to move and I have to focus on pressing the right floor so I can go back.

Because I need to go back.

I feel like I'm going to throw up when I burst out of the elevator a floor up from where I'd gotten on. Twisting wildly, I find the staircase door and take the stairs two at a time until I'm rushing into the lobby of Finnick's floor.

When I get there, I'm greeted by the sight of Haymitch holding Peeta against him, the sight causing me to come up short. With my stomach in knots, I approach slowly and catch Haymitch's eye. His ever present scowl is replaced now by a face weary with loss, exhaustion and disappointment.

"Your girl came back," Haymitch mumbles to Peeta, clapping him on the back until Peeta's body shudders and pulls away.

Meeting my gaze our eyes connect and the sight breaks me. Beyond the blue I can see the oceans of pain that Peeta is drowning in, the loss overcoming the sparkle I'd seen just the night before.

"You promised," he states calmly, his nose making his words nasally likely from the tears. I nod, unable to deny it. "You said you wouldn't leave."

Again I nod, stepping closer until I can rest my hand on his arm.

"I've never - " I start carefully but his expression changes and soon he's turning away from me, his body twisting and his hands tangling in his loose curls.

"Please," he cries out. I can see the whites of his knuckles as they grip his hair and I know then that he had watched the elevator doors close on me.

He knows I'd been running.

"I came back - "

"I don't care. I needed you. I needed you to be here for me. It's better if you leave now," he demands, turning to me at the end, his eyes hard. I frown and shake my head, stepping towards him again only to watch him step away.

"Just go!" he shouts angrily, his mood shifting to one I've never seen before. I glance towards Haymitch who just stares at me, his face unreadable.

I realize I won't find support there. I should have known better.

It only takes me another minute of being shut out before I turn and head back towards the elevator and the escape from this hospital.

All the while home my heart beats in my chest like an angry beast ready to rip, in all its pain and glory, from my chest. I don't know what this means for Peeta and I. I don't know what this means for anything. My thoughts refuse to be processed and I can barely make it to my room before I'm curling up into a ball and shutting out the world.

When Prim comes in, her small body laying before mine, I close my eyes tight so she doesn't have to see. She stays for a while, not quite knowing or saying anything apart from that she knows that Finnick is gone. That Peeta texted her. Asked her to make sure I got home alright. Asked her to look after me today.

But none of it matters now because there is no french toast this morning, no mimosas or time to bask in finally connecting with Peeta. All there is is death and sorrow, abandonment and hurt.

I'd ruined everything. Or we'd ruined it together.

This relationship was never meant to work. Haymitch was right, I don't deserve him.

But I wish I did.

"Prim, just go," I ask quietly, rolling to my other side away from her.

She goes without complaint and I feel the crushing loneliness of what I've done.

I never want to exist again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. My beta and I wrangled with this chapter for almost a month as I tried to figure out what to do with it. If you need to talk, need a group hug, whatever, please don't hesitate.


	23. Chapter 23

I take on extra shifts for the rest of the month. It isn't long, but by the time the month's end comes around, I'm exhausted. It's probably better this way so I can't even think about what's gone on.

With Annie out of commission, Prim has spent the last week out of town getting a crash course in counselling from another centre networked with _Posi+ive_. Even though I know what she's doing is important, I can't help but miss her as she spends the week away at a hotel.

The discussion about her going had been a hard one - I hadn't originally wanted her to go, too fearful that something would happen and she'd be taken from me. But she'd won out in the end, putting her foot down and reminding me that she's an adult who can handle her health.

"It's going to be different for me, Katniss!" she'd yelled, slamming the door to our apartment and dropping her purse on the kitchen table.

Returning from Finnick's funeral, tensions were running high as my body was now completely devoid of tears and energy from the extra work and the refusal to face the situation between Peeta and I. Prim leaving wasn't making it any better; I'd found out at the wake and it had caught me by surprise.

The discussion had come up when I'd noticed Prim standing closely with Haymitch before I'd ducked away to avoid him. After, I'd pulled her aside to interrogate her as to what Haymitch had been saying about me but she'd countered quickly.

"You're being insane. I know this thing with you and Peeta is hard, but Katniss, these are people I see nearly every day. Haymitch wasn't saying anything bad about you! He was telling me about a course the centre wants me to take to bring me up to certification. That's all," she had hissed, shaking her head disparagingly.

The conversation had paused there, me not wanting to make a scene and instead heading out a little bit early. We both ended up back in the apartment, the discussion coming back full force as my worries compounded.

"But Prim, you'll be in another city!" I'd shouted back, closing the door behind me with a snap, overcoming the obstinate stick in the door frame. I watched her spin to face me, her eyes still swollen from the tears shed earlier in the day.

"I know that Katniss, but you need to get it through your head that I can handle it! The centre needs someone to help with everything going on right now and I'm pretty much the closest to certification. I'm going, that's the end of it," she'd finished and began pulling out the makings of her comforting smoothie snack.

Watching her fiddle with our crappy blender, I felt myself giving up any will I had to fight with her further. Too tired to function, I'd let it go.

And now she is gone and I am home alone again, another double shift under my belt pushing me closer to the edge of a breakdown.

Sitting, watching the wall instead of reading the book I've picked up, I can't stop thinking about how things have spun so viciously out of control. It hadn't taken long - one slip in a critical moment and I'd lost everything. Now I spend my hours working so I don't think about how I much miss Peeta and the way he made me feel. Or worrying about Prim.

It doesn't help that I too am dealing with the loss of Finnick and whatever small friendship with Annie I had started to build. With Finnick gone and Annie dealing with the loss, I am alone, exhausted, and missing my best friend.

And I don't know what to do.

I try to focus on the book again, reading the same line over and over again until I hear a key in the lock, surprise and concern ricocheting through me.

"Prim?" I nearly shout, my breath caught in my lungs. I hear a stumble in the hallway and leap to my feet to investigate.

"Woah, Katniss," Rue's unexpected voice rings calls out, her hands up in the air. "Sorry, I thought you'd be at work. Prim wanted me to check on her plants, she wasn't sure you'd remember."

Rue is the last person I expect to be in my apartment right now, her presence confusing me as I try to process her words through my tired mind.

"Katniss, what's wrong? You look like someone killed your dog," she asks gently, her voice low. I look up to meet her eyes and it's as though her question is a crowbar tearing me apart, my walls weakening as my body shudders.

"I'm fine," I mumble and though I say the words, we both know they're a lie.

"Oh, babe, you are not fine. Sit down, we're going to talk this out or get you drunk or something," Rue insists and grabs at my arm, tossing her bag on the floor and pulling me over to the couch and forcing me down. "Where do you keep the booze?"

"Kitchen," I state and Rue disappears, a ruckus rising from her digging through the cupboards, pulling down cups and popping out ice. When she returns, she holds two mixed drinks in her hands and has the bottle tucked under her arm.

"Now, we're not going to get drunk because that would be useless-fun, but useless. But we're going to have drinks. Because you need to talk, I can see it written all over you, and Prim won't tell me anything. Spill."

I chew my lip at her words, unsure of where to start, what to say and how to go about it without sticking my foot in my mouth.

"You can say whatever, Katniss," she adds, practically reading my thoughts. "I won't judge you. I've been around people all my life who've said and done stupid shit because of my HIV. I know you've been dropped in the deep end and I don't care if your thoughts are still mixed up - I'll tell you straight and not hold it against you. So talk to me," she insists and clinks our glasses together ceremoniously. I take a hesitant sip and nearly sputter at the burn of liquor in my mouth.

"Oh man, what the hell is in this?" I ask only to be answered by Rue's maniacal laughter. It breaks the tension between us and I take the leap. "I feel like I'm losing it."

"Welcome to the club," she counters quickly, dryly, before taking a sip of her own drink.

"No, really. This, everything," I wave my hands around, nearly splashing my drink, not really caring, "It's heavy. I thought it would be fine, I thought once I got the money under control things would go back to normal, but - " I pause, taking another drink and looking at my feet. "It's not normal. Nothing is the way it used to be and all the decisions I used to make without a second thought are just… So hard now."

"Like what?" she prods, leaning back into the couch and getting comfortable.

"Like, saying sorry."

I let the words hang in the air, the full realization of their meaning hitting me like a brick wall and bringing tears to my eyes. "Like saying sorry to Peeta for leaving, for not being there for him. For not knowing how to support him with Finnick or being able to be strong enough for him."

"I'll be honest, it doesn't get easier," Rue cuts in, her hands moving with each word. "I've been doing this a long time-Kaniss I've had HIV for 22 years…" Her eyes go misty for a moment, but then snap back into focus. "Death sucks. But it's a part of life whatever your status. I don't know the full situation with you and Peeta, but I'm betting you were as strong for him as you could have been in that moment. And I've seen you with Prim and at the centre and babe, you are amazing. But you need to stop thinking it's possible to be everything for everyone. Cus, you can't help anybody if you burn yourself out."

I know other people have said it, but I feel like I'm hearing it for the first time. Tears well up as she scoots closer to me on the couch.

"Look, I don't know Peeta the best, but I do know he's got a lot of 'life experience' in his past, if you get what I mean. And I've known people fighting smack habits and let me tell you I know that sometimes, you can't be their sole pillar of strength for them. It doesn't work like that. The strength they need has to come from inside, otherwise you just get sucked down too. It isn't your job to 'fix' him. Try to remember that, see if it helps. Now, what else is on your mind?" I pause for a moment and consider my next words as Rue waits patiently.

"I'm sorry for all the ways I wish Prim was still - " I bite my lip to keep the words inside.

"Not positive? Girl, you shouldn't be sorry for wishing Prim didn't have HIV," Rue replies quietly as the tears begin to spill out of me for even thinking it. "Anyone with HIV has probably thought that at some point in their lives. It's not something we like, it's not something we want, but it's something that _is_. My mother wished since I was born that I didn't have it, but that's not the way it worked for us. We can't change it so we have to adapt to it. But that doesn't mean we don't wish we didn't have an incurable disease that costs a fortune to treat and could kill us, you know? So it's okay to wish for it, just be realistic too."

Her words resonate inside of me and the pain I've locked inside threatens to pour out.

"Keep going," she urges, and I take a shuddering breath.

"I hate that deaths are going to keep happening. That I'm going to lose more people I've come to love. I don't think I can handle that… Handle losing people like Prim… Or Peeta…" My voice cracks and soon Rue is pulling me in and letting me cry deep shuddering sobs upon her shoulder, our drinks temporarily abandoned on the table.

We sit together on the couch for a long while, my breakdown starting to ease and my head coming back to me. In those moments I realize the weight that was once so heavy has been lifted a little from my shoulders by saying it all out loud.

"Death is life, no matter who you are," Rue pauses, nodding slightly to herself. "I lost my mom when I was young from this disease and it still hurts to think about, but we have to go on. And you can lose people even if they aren't positive. Prim told me about your dad. Meanwhile I've had HIV for decades and my health is great. You take the meds, you do just about as good anyone else. You worry about Prim, but you let her drive don't you? That's more likely to kill her than HIV.

"We have to be there for those around us who are still living. Prim and Peeta - they're not going to just keel over. Focus on all the time and memories you get to make with them and forget all that death stuff - it's a waste of energy. Anything else?"

I shake my head and press my fingers to my eyes, the pressure lessening some in my head.

"Have you thought about maybe seeing someone professionally? I know it helped me a lot, maybe it would help you too," Rue adds after I'm able to sit back and take more sips of my drink.

"Yeah. I was supposed to talk to Annie but…" I pause and Rue nods her head knowingly. "I guess I can look into it, at least. Thanks Rue, I really appreciate it," I say. Rue simply shrugs and flips her hair over her shoulder.

"No problem, babe. Anytime you need to get away you just come find me. I won't always have the right answer, but I'll sure as hell know at least someway to get your mind off your troubles. We should go play paintball sometime. I'm a professional assassin at it, you'd be impressed," she grins and turns to flick the TV on to some infomercial. I watch her; young, healthy and beautiful. She's going to school, I know, and Prim tells me she wants to be a lawyer so she can advocate for people. She's like the face of hope for HIV. At least that's what I find myself feeling when I stare at her.

"Mind if I hang out a bit?" she asks. "My roommates are partying and I'd prefer hanging out here with you."

"I'd like that," I agree and open the bottle to top up our drinks.

* * *

Morning comes to the unwelcome blare of the phone, my eyes casting upon the clock and seeing it's later than I had thought. Sleep was an unforeseen blessing after the ringer I'd put myself through last night.

"Hello?" I answer groggily, unsure what's waiting for me on the other end of the line.

"Katniss? Is that you?"

Johanna's voice is there, a shadow of what she normally sounds like.

"Yeah Jo, it's me, what's up?"

My memory flicks back to seeing her at the funeral with Gale, her face hard and blank of emotion as Peeta gave his eulogy. I had been envious in that moment for the way she was able to shut down and lock out her emotions but now, after, I couldn't help but wonder what she'd been through to be able to turn off like that.

"How are you?" she asks, bringing my attention back to the present. I look down at my pajamas and the mess that is my room and I shake my head, recognizing I'm a bigger disaster than I want to admit.

"I'm getting by. How are you doing? How's everyone… at the centre?"

I want to ask how Peeta is - to know that he's doing okay - but I can't bring myself to put her in that position.

"That's actually why I'm calling so don't hang up. I'll tell you straight because I think, from what I've heard from Haymitch, you've both messed up. I know you didn't do it on purpose since I get the impression you're not the vindictive type. Yeah, I know-" she counters, before I even get the words out of my mouth to protest Haymitch gossiping about me. "Haymitch only let me in because I asked where Peet was. Don't worry about him - he's an asshole but good intentioned, you'll get used to it.

"Okay, so you need to know this: everyone fucks up their first loss, that's just what happens in this community, so you need to get that through your head. When someone dies, any range of people can get pissed about any sort of thing. So I'm saying this for one, because I'm your friend and you're still new and two, because Peeta's been taking it rough. I wouldn't be calling you unless I thought you could help."

She continues on to explain how Peeta has been shirking his duties at the centre, how he's missed more shifts than he's attended and how he looks like death warmed over. The description makes me feel like someone has walked over my grave, a cold shock in picturing Peeta back to using with a needle in his arm.

"And how am I supposed to fix this?" I break into her account of how he's worn the same shirt three times this week. I don't want to be rude - I want to help - but I haven't talked to Peeta since he told me to leave at the hospital and I'm not sure he ever wants to see me again.

To be honest, I know I've probably royally fucked it all up. And I don't have any idea how to start to repair the damage I've done. I don't want to think about it.

I'm a coward.

"Well, Brainless, you can start by using this phone you're holding to call him. Or call Rye, I scammed his number from Peeta's phone. Or go over there and talk this out. Look, this is fucking ridiculous. We've already lost one, don't destroy something that makes _that_ almost bearable - "

"Jo!" I hear the shout on the other line and Johanna sighs, a rustle audible.

"Gale didn't want me to call. Said you'd figure it out. But fuck it. Can you just try?"

I press my fingers to my temple blearily.

"Okay," I mumble, listening to her thank me with my tongue thick in my mouth. When she hangs up I bring my hands to my face and rub brusquely until the cold feeling from before has dissipated.

The call forces me to remember all that has happened since the hospital. The way I'd spent days avoiding everything, how I'd gone to the funeral and hidden in the back to stay out of Peeta's way. Once or twice I'd seen him staring at the crowd and I'd been sure he was looking for me but I'd ducked out of the room each time, not wanting to make his day any worse. Each time I'd left I'd had to hide out in the washroom until the tears stopped coming.

Finnick's ceremony had been funny in the way that some funerals can be recollections of the greatest aspects of a person - Finnick had made a mark on so many that the stories of his jokes and playboy ways had stuck with people, bringing them out in droves to laugh and cry about the good times and the bad.

Peeta's eulogy particularly had broken my heart, his caring words speaking about their relationship and the way Finnick had helped Peeta stay above board on so many occasions. In those moments I'd been sure that Finnick had been as much a brother to Peeta as Rye was. It only seemed to make the loss hurt more.

I'd cried silently for a long time after that, tucking myself away amongst the crowds until it was time to leave the venue.

After, as the group moved to the centre for the wake portion of the afternoon I'd stopped Annie and tried to offer my condolences but she'd been so spaced out that I'm not sure that she remembered any of it. When Prim came home a few hours after me I'd asked her about it, only to be informed that Annie was on medication and was being treated as an outpatient for her mental health as a result of the scene at the hospital.

The loss of Finnick had been more than just a death in the typical sense. All around me, ripples of his impact were fracturing and causing pain and suffering that I wasn't prepared for. Peeta and I were just the first piece to crack and that in itself was enough to break me down. Thankfully after Rue, I feel like I have some kind of handle on my grief, but I still struggle with how I feel about Peeta and the mess we made of our relationship.

Sitting on my pillows, I chew at my nails as I try to figure out the best way to go about this. Johanna's call has moved my worries about Peeta once again to the forefront of my mind and once there, they blind me like an unbearable light.

It's not enough that I regret the way I'd behaved at the hospital; my actions afterwards, even now as I avoid calling him - have marred me and undoubtedly soured me even further for him.

Opening my phone again I see the text from Johanna with Rye's number. My thumb hovers over the call button for a moment as I debate chickening out.

"Hello?"

An exhausted voice picks up on the other end and I contemplate hanging up for a moment longer, unsure of whether it's Peeta or Rye on the other end.

"Rye?" I ask quietly, unsure of the reception I'll get with this call. The pause of silence is deafening to me.

"Katniss? Is that you?" he asks carefully, whispering. I clear my throat, guilt and shame blossoming in me.

"Yes. I'm sorry to call-"

"No, god, no. Katniss, look I'm glad you called -"

He sighs and I can hear in the background as he closes a door. "He's here. He's okay. Just, we've been having a few close calls. He called me over after the funeral because he was sitting with a hit kit."

I suck in a breath and feel the tears prick at my eyes. I can't believe what Rye is saying - I can't bear the thought of Peeta relapsing. Not because of this.

Not because of me…

"It isn't your fault, Katniss," he states as though reading my mind. "Peeta's told me everything and I'm telling you straight up Katniss that it's not about you. But I think you need to make a move here now if you want to stay in this. He needs you but he doesn't want to put this on you. He won't do that willingly because he cares too damn much, the fool."

Rye's voice is sure, his words, calm and supportive, and I can see why he'd been a lifeline to Peeta when he was in too deep to get out on his own.

"Does he want to see me?" I ask tentatively, nervous.

"It's not about what he wants - what he wants is chemical and there's not much that can be done about that. He'll get over it. What he needs is to believe he deserves some happiness. You know as well as I do how much having a support system can help you get through the worst. Peeta needs his and you're a big part of that no matter how you left it. Can you stop by tonight if it's not too late? We'll be up for another couple hours having a _Golden Girls_ marathon," Rye finishes, giving me his address before hanging up.

I hadn't committed over the phone, hesitant to burst once again into Peeta's life, but now that I look at the clock and the numbers that read nine at night, I feel a yawning chasm open up inside me at the thought of Peeta sitting on a couch watching old TV without me. I remember his laugh and that sad look he could get in his eyes. I remember his breath and the feeling of his heart beat against my cheek. I realize I need to do this. Not for Peeta; however bad he's struggling, he's been doing fine for years before me. Not because for Rye or Finnick's memory. But for me.

I need Peeta like I need oxygen. I can't lose him over this.

Getting up, I take in the sight of my current state in the bathroom mirror. Before me my reflection looks haunted, my colouring pale and my lips chapped from the way I've been biting them, my hair now messy and frayed and my eyes hollow. I don't look like I did a month ago, before everything went wrong and I had to endure weeks without the laughter or the touch of comfort that Peeta gave me. The pain from not seeing Peeta, from losing everything that he is in my life since I've met him, has made me a shadow of a person.

I make quick work of showering and pulling on clothes, wrapping my hair in a loose braid before slipping out the door and into the night. The cab I take to Rye's seems to take forever, driving across town with me in a daze. When I reach his building, Rye buzzes me up quickly and I take the stairs two at a time in my haste to quell my nerves.

Standing outside of Rye's door I eventually stall, my heart in my throat and my pulse ricocheting all over the place.

Can I do this?

Can I live with not doing this?

I know I can't. It's that knowledge, the need I have for Peeta and the way he completes me, that makes me step forward and knock lightly on the door.

I feel like I'm going to pass out.

"Pizza's here!" Peeta shouts out from the other side of the door. I hear the lock click open and I freeze, my breath lost, as he swings open the door and looks down at me.

He goes completely still. I can't read his expression.

"Hey! You were supposed to bring pizza!" Rye shouts from behind Peeta, coming over to the door and opening it wider for me. I stay stuck in the hallway, my gaze focused on Peeta as he looks over and above my shoulder, unable to make eye contact. "Are you going to come in?" Rye prompts.

The invitation has Peeta turning and walking away from the door leaving me unsure of whether he wants me to leave or to stay.

"Are you -" I start to ask Rye but he just reaches forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the room.

"Sit, I'll call an actual pizza place," Rye instructs, pointing to the couch where Peeta sits in the corner practically huddling into the arm rest. I sit hesitantly on the other end, my thumb between my teeth as I watch Peeta pick at his nails, his nervous habit returning in full force. Before us, the _Golden Girls_ plays in mind-numbing fashion fulfilling its purpose as a distraction.

Rye doesn't come back and all of a sudden I realize I've been sitting on his couch for ten minutes with someone who clearly doesn't want me here.

This was a mistake.

Getting to my feet, I move around the room, desperate to put some space between us until I can form the words that I want.

"Blanche always had the best life lessons," I hear Peeta state from the couch, breaking the silence between us and surprising me. I pause, turning to see him get to his feet with his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

For as strong as he can look, I can't help but notice how broken he appears now. There are bags under his eyes, like the ones Johanna told me about. There's also a hunch to his posture that rings defeat. My heart seizes in my chest at the battles he must be fighting with the loss of his friend and what's happened to us.

"Blanche is my favourite. Rye puts this on whenever things are… hard. He says 'the soothing problems of aging women are more comforting than anything else in existence'," Peeta adds, finally looking up to meet my gaze. Our eyes lock for a moment and all I can think about is the way he'd felt beneath me and the way he'd made me feel safe in his arms.

"I never actually saw much of _Golden Girls_ ," I reply lamely.

"Mom always had it playing when we were growing up. It's kind of bittersweet to watch it, with all the bad memories I have of her but all the good ones I have with Rye."

His words register and make me falter, nervous at the edge of this chasm of suffering that he's had to endure in this life.

"You know I was scared," I blurt out abruptly, cutting through all the thoughts in my head.

"I know."

"And I didn't know what to do. So I was running. I'm not going to lie. I was terrified and I was running away from it. But then I saw you and… I _saw_ you. I realized I didn't want to run away from you," I pause, catching my breath and searching his face for any sign..

"I won't lie to you Katniss, watching you get on that elevator hurt so much, I didn't think I could stand it. I used that hurt against you when you came back because I was struggling. But when I woke up the next day and Finnick was gone and so were you, it hurt even more, and it was kind of like this well that I wanted to get out of but couldn't figure out," he admits and I can't bear the feelings bubbling inside me. "What you did that day - I remember my first loss and it was vicious. She was too young to go and her sister, god, she's still not past it. So I get it, I think, I just… I thought…"

His words trail off and I'm left wondering about it all - about who he lost and how his life has been altered by every person he's known. About the way he almost relapsed when he was at his lowest, but held it together enough to get past it and reach out for help.

"I want to be strong, but this is all so big. I want to keep trying but I need to be able to fail too," I admit quietly, recognizing that we both let ourselves get carried away with our emotions that day and that we need to be aware of our own actions if we're going to get past this.

I look up to find Peeta nodding. "I understand, I think. I want to keep trying, if you do," he smiles slightly, finally stepping towards me. I take the effort as a greater gesture of his willingness to meet me halfway, or at least part of the way.

"Can I -" I pause and bite my lip, wanting to ask but afraid of the rejection.

I don't have to finish asking.

Peeta strides towards me without another word, wrapping me in his embrace and holding tightly to me as though he's afraid he'll lose me.

"I've missed you," he mumbles against my neck, his face hidden but his voice belying the sorrow.

"I missed you too, so much. I'm so sorry for everything - "

I don't get to finish because soon his lips are upon mine and he's kissing me fiercely. His hands are against my cheeks and my body is flush to his so that I get lost in his kiss until he's breaking away and I'm forced to realize he's staring at me intently.

"I don't want apologies. Please stop apologizing. We can get through this," he whispers.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't want me to," I quietly reply, finding solace in his arms around me holding me close. The tears of relief seem to overcome us then, Peeta's soaking into the shoulder of my shirt like a reminder of the mark this will have on us and how we will need to learn from it.

Carefully, I toe off my shoes and steer us back towards the couch as Peeta's tears subside and he begins to come back around. I wait patiently, my hands gripping his and offering whatever support I can while I fight my own tears.

"Ugh, I'm sorry," he mumbles after a minute, sucking in a deep breath and shaking his head. "This month has been the worst."

"I know," I add, unsure of what else to say. Where before I would have had some words, now I find myself struggling to say anything at all.

"I um, didn't see you at the funeral?" he questions carefully, his gaze finally holding steady with mine. Though not accusatory, it still stings a little that he'd question whether I'd go.

"I was there. Finn and I were friends too, I couldn't miss it just because of what happened with us. I just… needed to not make your day worse by getting in your way. Your eulogy was beautiful," I add and Peeta nods.

"I wouldn't have pushed you away if I'd seen you. I couldn't stop wishing the whole day that you were there by my side."

His words stab at me with their quiet vulnerability, haunting me in the way we both could have sought comfort on that day.

"I wish I'd been by your side too," I murmur before scooting closer. Silently thanking Rye for the privacy, I lean in tentatively and press my lips to Peeta's, gentle at first until he responds and pulls me until I'm sitting in his lap.

The kiss tells of so much more than just our physical attraction. It reminds me of the hours we spent just talking over a meal, of the closeness that we found laying together in his bed, and of the sweet way he'd smile crookedly at me when he had something to tell me.

When we do pull apart, it's only to be greeted by Rye's clapping and the laughter that accompanies it.

"I was a little afraid that the fake-out pizza would make this reunion a little more difficult, but I see it's going well. Sorry to interrupt though but -" The bell interrupts his words and Rye moves to the door to buzz someone else up. "The actual pizza guy is here. Katniss, would you like to stay for dinner?"

I look to Peeta who stares at me with a hopeful expression and I nod towards Rye.

"Sure. But only so long as there's no fruit on that pizza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter has seen a lot of editing, both before and after the feedback from the last chapter. I wanted to give a huge thank you to both Opaque, my amazing beta, and you guys, the readers, for your amazing feedback and support for this work. You've been incredible and I value all of you to the end and back. Only a few more chapters left...


	24. Chapter 24

“Kittttttty Kat…” The crooning voice sings out to me, melodic and light and a vast change from the voices that have haunted my dreams for the past month. 

 

“Come on Kitten, time to get up,” the sweet voice calls again and I refuse, snuggling in further to the heat source next to me. 

 

But then there’s an arm. 

 

And jeans. 

 

Leaping up, I nearly fall off the couch as Rye’s maniacal laughter fills the room and my once restful mind. I scowl, throwing a pillow towards him and looking hazily towards Peeta who’s grinning slightly. 

 

“How long was I asleep?” I ask, rubbing my eyes and then returning to Peeta’s side where I tuck myself in again. Rye’s hand is around my arm in an instant, pulling me away and until I’m standing. 

 

“No, Kitten, it’s time to go. We need to get our beauty sleep,” Rye states and I frown, looking towards him and away from Peeta to see if he’s absolutely mad. 

 

He isn’t. 

 

He’s dead serious. 

 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going home?” I ask Peeta, turning to him, confused. I’d half hoped to spend the night with him after everything we’ve been through. 

 

“Not tonight. Brother dear of mine is camping out here for a few days,” Rye replies for him, stepping into my line of vision and giving me a look that I hadn’t expected from him. 

 

One that says ‘don’t fuck this up’. 

 

I’m inclined to listen. He’s been here before and I haven’t. I need to get this through my head that some things are different than others in this situation. 

 

“Oh,” I mutter and shake my head quickly to clear the cobwebs. “Yes, okay. No, I should definitely go home, you’re right. I’ve got a double tomorrow and Prim is coming back so I should clean up and get some sleep.”

 

It sounds more pathetic saying it aloud, the tone of my voice only unwittingly adding insult to injury. 

 

“You’ve got a double tomorrow? But you look like you’ve barely slept,” Peeta questions from his place on the couch, his gaze focused on me as I pull on my shoes. 

 

“Yeah, well… The hours are there. Make hay while the sun shines, you know?” 

 

My positive framing doesn’t make it sound any better and soon Peeta is there standing with me, his hands tucked in his pockets as though he doesn’t want to touch me and I can’t help thinking how bizarre all of this is and wondering if its actually a dream. 

 

Peeta not going home. Peeta staying with Rye for a few days. Rye taking charge and kicking me out. 

 

I’m so confused. 

 

“Will you call tomorrow?” Peeta asks as a yawn slips past his lips. I’ve finally gotten my shoes on again and I’m standing still, unsure of whether I should give him a kiss goodbye or if Rye will get in between us. 

 

“Yes, I can do that, um…” I chew my lip and look to Rye who rolls his eyes and turns to head back to the couch. Thankful that’s he’s no longer watching me like a hawk, I look to Peeta and give a small smile. “Are you going to be okay? Like, has he house arrested you or something?” My question evokes a deep laugh from Peeta who shakes his head before pressing a kiss to my cheek. 

 

“He’s just taking care of his little bro, don’t worry,” he soothes and when still I frown he sighs and looks back to his brother on the couch, a strange look coming over him. “He hasn’t been to my place to clean it up yet. I, uh… Almost slipped and he wants to check it before I go back. He’s just trying to help.” 

 

“I could go, tomorrow for you,” I interject, stepping closer despite the way my fears about Peeta relapsing blossom in my chest and make me anxious. I want to help him, but how do I even start?

 

“No, that’s not a good idea,” he replies lowly, his body straightening up slightly. 

 

“What do you mean? Can I not be trusted or - “ 

 

“No, Katniss, no. Look, Rye knows where I hide shit. He knows every nook and cranny of my place and more so he knows what exactly he’s looking for. I know this seems like lockdown, but he’s helping me right now,” he says, looking back to his brother. 

 

“Can’t I help you?” I ask quietly, hurt that I’m being excluded. I want to be there for him, to help him get past this, but I can’t if he won’t let me. 

 

“You already have, just by hanging out tonight. You really have no idea the effect you have, do you?” 

 

He turns back to me, his thumb swiping against the shell of my ear before he continues. “I know you want to help, but right now this is what’s helping me, okay?” 

 

Reluctantly, I nod and rest my head against his chest. 

 

I don’t really want to leave. Not as I walk aimlessly through the streets, debating whether to go back, before hailing another cab once I realize it’s nearly one in the morning. When I’m finally home I don’t tidy up for Prim or even think about the tasks that await me tomorrow - instead I crawl into my bed and try to ignore the coolness of my sheets and the lack of Peeta next to me. 

 

I’m nearly unconscious when I hear my phone buzz on the bedside table, waking me enough so that I can roll over and grab it, pressing the talk button without looking. 

 

“Is this okay?” The voice on the other end asks and I’m instantly comforted, Peeta’s voice chasing away the darkness. 

 

“Yes. I’m really glad you called,” I reply, a smile coming to my lips. 

 

“Me too. I wanted to say I’m sorry I couldn’t spend the night with you,” he whispers and I can picture him on Rye’s couch, whispering so as not to wake his brother up. 

 

“It’s okay. This is best for right now. I can live with it as long as you can,” I joke lightly. Peeta laughs and then sighs into the line. 

 

“I know. I just hate that this is the reason. I wish I could be normal for you, you know? This is so much to ask of you and hell, if I could imagine life without you… But I can’t. God, that’s so pathetic sounding. I’m sorry,” his words peter off and I’m struck by the feelings that overwhelm me. 

 

“I’m glad you can’t imagine it without me… Because I can’t imagine it without you either,” I reply quietly, wishing I could give him more. But I’ve never been good with words. “We’ll get through this, Peeta. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

“I love you.” 

 

“Me too.” 

 

And I do, so much so that my heart squeezes in my chest as I think it. 

 

We don’t hang up that night, falling asleep to the sound of each others breaths and revelling in whatever closeness we can get. When I wake up, it’s not to my alarm or the sun streaming through my window, it’s to Rye’s voice on the other end. 

 

“If you want to help learn, I’m heading over after work around five. Hopefully I’ll see you there,” he bids and then the line dies leaving me scrambling to get ready for work. 

 

I’ve already cancelled my second shift by the time I get to my first job, calling in a family emergency and using the good favour from my boss to ensure I’m able to make it to Peeta’s apartment by the time Rye gets there. 

 

The day runs quickly, the hours passing in a sleepy fog until it’s quitting time and I’m heading off with a newfound energy. 

 

“You made it,” Rye says almost in awe when I jog up the steps, only a few minutes late. 

 

“Huh?” I counter, looking down for something wrong with me that would have made me not show. When I see nothing, I look up to see Rye staring at me for a moment longer with a strange look on his face. 

 

“Just… Nevermind. Let’s get to this so we can get some food. Peeta doesn’t know you’re here, he’d hopped in the shower before I found his phone. Here, you should use these,” he adds, handing me a pair of latex gloves that I examine for a moment before pulling them on. “I wanted to see if you’d actually show before I told him you were coming. Let’s start in the kitchen.”

 

I follow Rye around Peeta’s apartment, watching him pull up floorboards and look into pots at the back of cupboards. The process takes nearly two hours, our hands thankfully coming up empty at the end but for the ‘hit kit’ Peeta had somehow obtained before calling his brother for help. I don’t want to see it, not really, but Rye insists so that I recognize the pieces in case I ever see them around in the future. Looking at the box, I recognize bits from the kits Peeta had shown me at  Posi+ive and my heart sinks. 

 

“You’re quiet,” Rye states as we settle into a booth at the diner down the street and quickly order our food. 

 

I can’t look at him, afraid he’ll see the worry in my eyes and hold it against me. 

 

“Katniss, this isn’t common,” he goes on, reaching forward until his hand interrupts my line of vision towards the vinyl table. “I’ve only done this maybe two or three times in the past couple years. Since Peeta got sober he hasn’t needed me to sweep really. In his old place I used to break in and steal all his shit so he couldn’t use but that didn’t work out so well. It was an effort to put him at rock bottom for a long time so I know his little tricks for hiding things. When we got this apartment we spent days finding nooks and crannies that could be used in case he did relapse.” 

 

I let him continue on, explaining how he’d found Peeta that day the hospital had called him. How he hadn’t realized how bad it really was until he’d seen his baby brother rail thin on a ward bed with sheet white skin. 

 

“But he’s worked hard to come back from that and so anytime he needs me, I’m there for him. I wasn’t there when he needed me when he was dealing with Mum and I won’t forget that. But this?” I watch him wave around his hand and finally meet his eyes. “Katniss, he still struggles, but this battle was beyond just cravings for a fix - the stress, the loss, thinking he’d pushed you away...he is one strong son of a bitch, literally, to have not relapsed with everything going on right now.” 

 

I sit back and let Rye’s words sink in, the whole of it beyond just Peeta’s description, leaves me wanting more than anything to hold Peeta and never let go. Before it even comes to the forefront of my mind I’m sliding into the booth beside Rye and gripping my arms around him, so unbelievably thankful that he’s here now. 

 

“Thank you, for keeping him alive so I could meet him,” I whisper as I hold on tight. Rye laughs and pats my back lightly. 

 

“Thank you for having the balls to do this. I know a lot of girls who wouldn’t even give him a chance and it’s fucking destroying to know that. So thank you,” he pulls back and the smile on his face is blinding. 

 

“No need for thanks. I think I’m the lucky one here,” I say, moving back to my own side of the booth. 

 

The rest of the meal centers on more upbeat topics - a round of jokes coupled with stories about Rye’s new conquest, a girl named Delly who keeps turning him down no matter what tactic he uses. 

 

“You mean she didn’t fall for the angel pickup?” I laugh loudly, the crude pickup line that Rye uses almost making me choke on my food. 

 

“No! Not even a laugh out of her. I don’t get it,” he admits honestly, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it is about her.” 

 

“Well, that’s tough luck - “ I answer, my words interrupted by my phone ringing in my pocket. “Hello?” 

 

“Katniss, this place is a disaster. Tell me please that it’s because you made up with Peeta,” Prim groans into the phone. I can picture her standing in the front room, a few dishes here and there and a couple of my shirts strewn about marring the clean apartment she strives to maintain. 

 

“Well, I guess, yes,” I answer between bites of my food. The squeal on the other end of the line even causes Rye to look at me with a cocked eyebrow. “I’m actually eating dinner now. What are you doing later?” 

 

“Probably collapsing on the couch and having a movie marathon. Will you be home later?” 

 

Nodding along despite the fact that she can’t see me, I look up to Rye who is motioning to me for my phone. Reluctantly, I hand it over to him and watch him carefully. 

 

“Hi, who’s this?” he asks brightly and I turn my focus back to the food before me. “No, haha, it’s not Peeta. I’m Rye - yes, good to talk to you too. Oh? You’ve heard about me, eh?” He looks up at me, cocking his eyebrow again. “That’s not so good. I’ll need to talk to him about that. Yes - she’ll likely be at my place again. Come over. We’ll have a movie night, the four of us. Yes, I’m serious - no Prim, I’m not joshing you.” 

 

I stare at him as he gives Prim his address, eventually hanging up the phone and shrugging towards me. 

 

“You were going to be there anyways. And besides, we’re each others only family, we might as well hang out and get to know one another.” 

 

The smile that breaks across my face accompanies me until my muscles hurt. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing but thanks for ya'll.


	25. Chapter 25

“So, you went with Rye?” Peeta asks later, when we’re alone sitting on Rye’s balcony. We’d finished watching a movie when Rye offered to teach Prim a thing or two about the Mellark family pastime of baking. Peeta and I have gratefully taken the opportunity to enjoy some privacy in the cool summer breeze outside.

 

“He told you?” I reply after a beat, not so much surprised as I am worried about the potential for Peeta to be upset about it. I squint my eyes as I look out towards the sunset, the strays of my hair catching around my face.

 

“Yeah. I want to be okay with it, but… It’s hard to swallow that you had to do that. I didn’t want that to ever be a part of your life,” he sighs, exhaustion and a hint of frustration in his tone. I look towards him then, my palm coming to rest on his thigh.

 

“It’s a part of you, Peeta. Isn’t it better that I know now, than if it happens again and I have no idea?”

 

“But it shouldn’t have to happened at all,” he counters.

 

“Okay yeah, I know, it sucks. It’s a shitty part of life.”

 

“I wish I could be better for you.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

The word is out before I think it and I’m pressing my lips to his with a fierceness that surprises even myself.

 

“I love you however you are. You don’t need to change for me, okay?”

 

Stealing another kiss, I move to rest my head on his shoulder as we sit and watch the sunset in the distance.

 

“Cake’s done,” Rye interrupts a while later, joining us on the balcony with Prim at his side proudly holding up a small bunt cake sprinkled with icing sugar.

 

“It’s beautiful!” Prim exclaims and sets the cake down on the beaten up table. Together we surround the treat, splitting it into oversize pieces and devouring it in the early evening quiet.

 

The moment allows me a time of reprieve as I think about all that has happened this past year. The shock of learning about Prim’s diagnosis, of coming home and struggling for so long, of meeting Peeta and searching for a balance. Finally now things seem to be starting to settle down around us.

 

These past few weeks have been incredibly hard, straining on myself and the relationships I keep, but together we have all come through the fog to the other side, our vision clearer and stronger. As I sit here, chewing on the soft cake that tickles my taste buds I realize that with Finnick’s death came a closeness with people that I hadn’t thought possible. Now, as we gather here, Prim, Peeta, Rye and myself, I find us to be like a family. Though we’re still new to this, I hope that this is the start of something more than just mutual comfort from the end of Finnick’s life.

 

“Whatcha thinking about, Kitty?” Rye prods when I’ve been lost in my thoughts for too long. I grin sheepishly at him and shrug, preferring to keep those visions to myself for now.

 

“Probably about what she’s going to do to you later, Peeta,” Prim jokes. The flash of embarrassing heat to my cheeks has me turning towards her quickly, surprised at her forwardness and the daring words she’s shared. “Whoops,” she covers quickly at my stare, her hand whipping up to cover her mouth.

 

Beside me, Peeta coughs on his cake as Rye bursts into a fit of laughter that echoes off the cement walls. The feeling is contagious and before I know it we’re all laughing for one reason or another, our sides starting to hurt from the effort.

 

“Okay, okay, but seriously, who needs some chocolate milk?” Rye asks once the laughter has subsided. Prim perks up at the offer, quickly joining him inside and once again leaving us alone.

 

“It’s almost like they planned that,” Peeta sighs, his heavy palms coming to rest on my shoulder as he massages gently. I nearly melt in his grip, the feeling filling me with a new heat. “You know, I _was_ thinking about what I was going to do to you later,” he whispers distractingly in my ear, the sound running straight to my core.

 

He continues his motions for a while longer until he pauses, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder.

 

“But I think I should stay another night here. Just to reassure Rye… You know? Would that be okay?”

 

“Of course it would. You’re not going anywhere, right? We have time,” I finish lazily,shifting until I’m sitting back against him, tucked into his warmth.

 

“God, I love you,” he sighs into my hair and his arms wrap themselves tightly around me, reassuring and comforting.

 

* * *

 

“So, how are you doing, my dear?” Effie asks brightly, leaning forward with her fingers on the desk, sprawling out.

 

I’m here because Peeta and I have finally started to find some counselling to help us adjust to everything that’s happened this past year. I had hoped Annie would be able to help me before everything happened, but she’s so out of it these days that I can’t help but worry for her.

Finnick’s death hit her harder than I’ve ever seen death hit anyone. Her work with the centre has been non-existent, her withdrawal so complete that Prim has started in her position without any buffer. I can’t hold it against her, but to stay I’m surprised that this is how she’d adjust after being in the community so long, would be an understatement.

 

So here I sit, Effie’s overly pink office nearly suffocating me as I ask for a reference to a couples counsellor.

 

The feeling is bizarre.

 

“It seems like you’ve made great strides between yourselves, from what you’ve told me and that’s _wonderful_ ,” her words drip with excitement.

 

I catch sight of her adam’s apple and I remember what Prim had said about her transition. I realize you wouldn’t notice the difference if it hadn’t been pointed out before and the surrealness of the situation has me chewing my tongue.

 

Two years ago, I never thought my life would be full of so many people from so many different walks of life. Or that I would be included so completely into their community.

 

Two years ago I didn’t even know _Posi+ive_ existed. Now I can’t imagine my life without it.

 

“I think something you should start to examine your expectations for the future - I have a great friend with the regional mental health group who works with new couples that are looking towards the future. What some people in the community may forget is that family planning is more than just wearing condoms to prevent the spread of HIV. You know, we’d be excited to have another little one running around to perhaps be friends with the Odair child, if you’re eager to start a family,” she sighs wistfully, her gaze upturning to the ceiling as she pictures the ideal situation in her mind.

 

I freeze as the words start to sink in.

 

Not the ones about my future, but the ones about Annie’s. I think.

 

“The -” I clear my throat as the words get stuck, “Odair baby?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t know? My dear, Annie is with child. Isn’t that _thrilling_?” she squeals excitedly, breathless at the thought.

 

I bite my tongue, my worry increasing tenfold for Annie and how she’s getting through this. I couldn’t imagine being pregnant, let alone doing it on my own especially so soon after Finnick’s passing.

 

“Yes,” I mutter, lost in my thoughts as Effie starts to plow on, giving me the name and number of a few counsellors in the area that work with couples. I ask for the list to be printed out and I leave her office in a daze.

 

“Yo, Brainless!” Johanna calls as I head towards the exit. I feel her hand on my arm a moment later, startling me back to the present. “What’s got you all shell shocked?”

 

“Um, uh… Nothing. Sorry, I was just thinking about stuff. How are you doing?” I ask as the blood starts flowing again through my brain. I quickly take in the sight of the bags under her eyes and the spot in her hair that looks like she hasn’t brushed it since waking up.

 

“I’m getting by. You know, dealing with shit with Gale - how did you ever put up with him?” she asks quickly, as though rushing through the problem she’s facing in her mind.

 

“What do you mean Jo? What’s up?” She shakes her head at my question, looking off over my shoulder and chewing on her lip anxiously. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I urge her to look back at me and when she does there’s tears in her eyes. “Let’s go get some lunch and you can talk it out okay?”

 

Her nod is all I need and I shuffle back to find Prim working in the back with a few other young adults preparing educational posters.

 

“Prim, could you watch the front? Jo and I are going to grab some lunch,” I ask quietly so she’s the only one to hear. She nods quickly and follows me back out to the front, plopping down in the chair with a huff as I catch sight of Jo leaning against the building outside.

 

Pulling in a breath, I join her and wait for her to let me know she’s ready. Wiping her eyes clear, she jerks her head in the direction of a hot dog stand down the road and we head that way.

 

Once we have loaded up with our salt-laden lunch, we cut across to the local green space and settle on a bench to eat in peace. It doesn’t take long though and soon Jo is tapping her toe on the cement, her arms and legs crossed in a defensive posture.

 

“So, Gale…” I prompt, shifting to face her slightly.

 

“Ugh. God, he knew what he was getting into when he got with me. I made it pretty clear that I was still fucked up and he accepted that. But now every night it’s ‘Jo this’ and ‘Jo that’ - always trying to fix me. It’s exhausting and it makes me want to cut him with my axe,” she sighs, and though she utters the threat it’s clear she doesn’t mean it in any sense. It’s more like she just doesn’t know what to do with Gale’s caring for her. “I used to talk to Annie about this shit all the time - she was my sounding board. But with everything…”

 

“Have you talked to _Gale_ about this at all?” I counter. Jo shakes her head and looks to me.

 

“Not lately. I guess, well, I think I should probably tell you why I’m at _Posi+ive_. Now, don’t freak out about this okay? I didn’t mention it earlier because like, I didn’t want you to get it in your head or anything, but we have a lot more in common than you think. My sister was positive too, just like Prim. She tested positive after she was assaulted at a party,” she pauses and twists her hands, not willing to look keep eye contact. “She couldn’t deal with it. Some people can’t. It was fucked up. And it kind of fucked me up - it still does.

 

“It happened around when Peeta first started coming in. He bonded with my sister because they were both young and he was new and they were dealing with all of the changes happening to them so they got along well. But it wasn’t enough for her. She stepped off a bridge one night and that was it. That’s why I stuck around here because back then? The only time she smiled was when she was here. So I volunteer here because I remember her here and because these people helped me. But Finnick is gone and Annie is all fucked up and Gale just… It’s a lot. Fuck.”

 

She sighs as the words stop tumbling from her lips, leaving me speechless in the silence.

 

I’m not sure what I expected from Johanna’s story but it hadn’t been this. Not this tragedy that kept getting worse. The image of Prim standing on a bridge's railing burns into my mind and my heart hurts for Johanna who has been through so much and yet still gives her time to this community. If Prim were to suffer like Johanna’s sister, I don’t know if I could be strong enough to still be here.

 

Not having words, I reach forward and hold Johanna’s hand as she falters, her head hanging again and her sniffles the only sign of the tears she’s letting fall. We sit there for a while, the quiet seclusion of the park giving us the privacy to face our own demons and the challenges that still lay ahead and behind us.

 

“I just wish it could go back to the way it was, you know?” Johanna grumbles later, the tears dry and her body language back to normal from the defeated way it was only a while earlier.

 

“Yeah, I get that. But life doesn’t go backwards, so we have to go forward with it,” I muse. Johanna looks at me, a smirk on her face.

 

“You’ve been spending far too much time with Peet in “philosophical mode”, haven’t you?”

 

“Actually, that was Gale, after my dad died. You know, you should really talk to him about this. He’s been through enough that he can handle it and I think you’d be surprised. Gale understands more than he let’s on.”

 

I know my words are true, for as much distance there is between Gale and I right now, there’s still a big part of him that’s honest and loyal to the end.

 

“Yeah. I guess. I’m just so used to Annie being around to deal with my shit that now that she’s… Well, I need to figure it out and let her figure out her shit too. She’s got - nevermind,” she waves her hand, dismissing the topic and likely not wanting to share Annie’s secret.

 

Letting it slide to respect whatever privacy Johanna is trying to give, I shrug and together we sit quietly, our moods a little bit lighter than they were earlier. “Okay, I need to go back to the centre. I’ll see you later.”

 

Bidding my farewells, I head in the opposite direction, still digesting Johanna’s history and Annie’s new stage in life. Both subjects make my stomach tighten and when I look at my watch and realize I’m going to be late for work, it’s an easy decision for once to call in sick.

 

I spend the afternoon wandering the streets, popping into children’s shops and rubbing my fingers against the smooth feeling of baby clothes. My thoughts drift to not only Finnick and Annie’s child, but also the future, still so far away but now peeking with visible edges of Peeta and I, maybe our children in our arms.

 

Dropping the blue onesie from my grasp I bite the inside of my cheek and look around me.

Children? With Peeta? Is that even possible with… everything?

 

I look back down at the onesie and grab it and several others into my hands, moving to the cash register with newfound fervor. Checking out, I hail a cab and give it my destination with the bag securely in my grasp.

 

It only takes a few minutes but soon I’m standing on the steps of a rundown brownstone building, my fingers hovering over the address board. This is it. This is something I need to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one left!


	26. Chapter 26

“Katniss?” Annie’s gravelly voice greets me, her skin paler than usual and her eyes dark. She looks thinner now, despite the small bump in her stomach that tells of the truth in Effie’s words. It can’t have been that long since I’ve seen her - how did I not notice it before?

 

“I brought things,” I state blankly, thrusting the bag of clothing out towards her. She looks at me as though I’ve grown two heads, shaking her head slightly. 

 

“How did you know?” she asks, accepting the bag and holding it tightly in her grasp over her belly. 

 

“Effie.” 

 

I throw caution to the wind, pushing past and into her apartment without invitation, turning once inside to look at her square on. 

 

“You won’t have to do this alone. I’ve thought it through and you’re a part of us at the centre. We’re a family and just because things have happened does not mean you’re alone. You have us and everyone says it takes a village and well, we’re your village but just a little bit more damaged than the usual -” I rattle on, using every thought that comes to mind to try to bring her around to what I’m saying, “Annie, I want to help. I haven’t said anything to anyone but I know they’ll all help too. Please don’t lock yourself away and try to do this by yourself. You don’t have to.” 

 

The silence between us stretches as I watch Annie’s hand move across her stomach lightly. She looks at me, a scared deer-in-the-headlights look, before the tears overcome her. 

 

We move to sit on the little couch in the corner of the room, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as I let her cry like I had earlier with Johanna. The moment seems like a deja vu as all around me the pillars of strength that I found with Prim’s diagnosis begin to falter. 

 

“When one of us is down, we help each other stand back up,” I mutter the realization outloud. It’s true - we are a team connected by  Posi+ive and we balance each other within the community. 

 

“I know, it’s just so hard to stay,” Annie whispers between hiccuping breaths. I pat her back gently, providing the only comfort I really know how to give right now. “Everything there reminds me of him. The walls, the couches, everything. It hurts to be there without him.” 

 

“I know. We don’t have to go there though, not right now. Not for a long time if you don’t want to. But we will get past this,” I reassure her. 

 

The time seems to pass slowly, no words needed between us as Annie begins to come back around, poking her hands through the bag and lightly pulling out the onesie covered in mustaches. 

 

“It was too cute to leave it there,” I add when she smirks at me, her brow uplifted in question. 

 

“I don’t even know what it is… Or if it will be healthy…” 

 

“How do you - I mean, how do you help it… I don’t - does the baby automatically get HIV from you? Or from Finnick?” I blurt out confusedly, my thoughts rushing around the complicated issue. 

 

I really have no bearing on HIV pregnancies and the black hole of knowledge boggles my mind. I know Rue got HIV from her mother, but if I’m being honest, I don’t really understand if the complications are solely based on whether the mother is HIV positive or if it matters that the father is as well? I don’t even know if I should be asking her right now, but if anyone can tell me straight up, it’s Annie and maybe it will even help ground her, remind her of what a resource she is to everyone. 

 

Thankfully, Annie lets out a small laugh at my struggling question, patting me affectionately on the knee. 

 

“It’s really not that different, surprisingly. Since my viral load is undetectable, I’m kind of like any other pregnant person. I take prenatal vitamins, stay on my meds and just see my doctor more often to check my viral load. It’s really the most risky at the third trimester and the birth. If I stay undetectable I can even have a natural birth, but even then they prescribe medicine to counteract any transmission and almost all of infants get through it okay. Then I’d just have to avoid breast feeding. The baby would get antivirals for the first couple of months and then I guess we would be home free. For all I know, and with any luck, the baby will -” she pauses in thought, her attention turning to the window for a moment as she squints into the light, “the baby will be fine,” she finishes quietly. 

 

“Were you… Did Finnick - did he… know?” I ask quietly, tentative. 

 

Her eyes well up with tears. “No. I just kind of found out myself. I went into my doctor for routine stuff thinking maybe I was feeling so exhausted because of everything going on, and yeah… I wish I could have told him. Finnick had always wanted children but we were waiting for the right time, for when we could afford to have a child and when our health was stable enough to handle it. We’d talked about it a couple times recently, my tests were good and things seemed to be balancing out with our finances so we tried a few times but nothing too serious. We weren’t really trying, just hoping to let things happen but - ” She pauses and rubs her forehead with her fingers, mulling over the memories of Finnick, “I hate to think that he was sacrificing himself so that we could have a child.” 

 

My stomach rolls at the idea. Had this been on Finnick’s mind? It would be so like him to save money and try to ensure Annie was as healthy as possible so they could have their dream life. He would do anything to make Annie happy, that’s why Finnick believed he existed.  

 

“He’d be so happy for you now,” I offer knowing my words are true. Finnick would have been so proud to know he was going to be a father. 

 

“That’s what I have to keep telling myself. That I’m lucky to have this now,” Annie responds and a silence passes between us at the memory.

 

Pulling her in for a tight hug, I realize that I’ve just witnessed a flash of the old Annie, the less burdened Annie, and I know that she’s still in there somewhere and she will come back to us. As surprising and difficult as this baby may be, it might be the best thing for Annie as she’ll get to have a piece of Finnick forever. 

 

“Thank you, for coming today,” she says, pulling away finally and getting to her feet. “You didn’t need to bring these,” she adds, motioning to the bag. Joining her, I smile and shake my head. 

 

“Anytime. And yes I did, because you’re right, the baby will be fine. Now, do you need anything else? I could stay… But I should probably get home and check in with Prim…” 

 

“No, I’ll be okay tonight. Go, I know you want to see Peeta and tell him everything,” she laughs as I give her a shocked look, starting to deny that I was going to tell him her situation. “No, it’s okay. Really. He loves babies, he’ll be over the moon probably. I’ll… try to call. If I need anything.”

 

Nodding, we head towards the door. I give Annie another tight hug, ones I usually reserve only for Prim, before heading back onto the street and into the mess of commuter traffic. 

 

 

* * *

 

“How did your counselling session go today?” I ask Peeta as we climb the stairs to Rye’s apartment. We’re having dinner here again, Prim included, and I’m happy it seems like maybe it will become a regular thing for us. 

 

“Oh, you know, thrilling and full of upbeat affirmations,” he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as we round the bend. 

 

While I was just starting to look for my counsellor, Haymitch had already referred Peeta to another therapist after Finnick’s death, claiming he was too close to provide adequate support. Peeta had been going almost regularly after work, along with occasional addiction meetings to reassure himself that he could stay sober. 

 

I’d never been more in awe of him than when he explained it all to me. 

 

“Are you starting to like the guy better, or is he still all sunshine and rainbows?” I prod a little further, not wanting to invade his privacy but curious to see how he’s progressing with some of the things we’ve discussed. I know his reluctance to trust our decisions, and to trust his knowledge about his own illness, are major points for me but I also understand they might not be the most important for him. 

 

“He’s okay. I mean, he wanted me to imagine what it would be like if I didn’t have HIV… And… Well that’s hard because I feel like I’ve always had it, at least for the time I was making my own decisions. It’s hard to get past, you know? But I think we’re making progress, at least with some things.” 

 

Nodding, trying to understand his struggle, I remain silent for a moment incase he wants to continue.

 

He doesn’t. And that’s okay. 

 

“Well, I’ve got some news that might make your day a little better?” I offer, changing subjects and nervously bouncing slightly on the couch. When he looks at me with a brow cocked, I grin brightly and blurt it out: “Annie’s pregnant.” 

 

“She’s  what ?” Prim shouts ecstatically. I look to see her bouncing on her toes, standing in the kitchen with Rye, both their hands covered in flour. Turning back to face Peeta, I see the smile grow on his face and I can’t help but be giddy at both of their reactions. “I mean, I thought something was up but you don’t just  ask . How did you find out?” Prim continues cheerfully, nearly prancing over to me with her hands still in the air. 

 

“Prim, help me finish this before you get too distracted,” Rye reminds. I look up to see him glancing towards Peeta cautiously, his gaze quickly averting when I catch him staring. 

 

“Fine… But Katniss you have to talk loud enough so I can hear,” Prim quips and returns to kneading the dough they’ve been working on. 

 

Looking at Peeta, I place my hand gently over his and bring his attention to me, examining his face for any signs of sadness. There’s a trace, but through it he’s smiling broadly.

 

“She wanted you to know,” I add for only him to hear. Peeta nods and pulls me to him until I’m resting against his chest, an oddly intimate moment for us in the presence of our siblings, but still comfortable and needed. 

 

“I’m happy for her. How did you find out?” Peeta asks after the moment has past and I’ve pulled back slightly so Prim can hear me. 

 

“Effie, actually - “

 

“Man, Effie sometimes,” Peeta sighs and rubs his hand over his face, exasperated at Effie’s lack of filter when it comes to other peoples business.

 

“Yeah, I know. I think it just slipped her mind, I don’t think she meant any harm. But she sort of just dropped the bomb and I kind of… ambushed Annie about it,” I shrug, not mentioning my curiosity about HIV pregnancies to Peeta, afraid of what that conversation could lead to. 

 

“Yeah, but still. I’ll have to call Annie and check in. She doesn’t have any family around that can help her out. It’s going to be hard for her,” he adds. 

 

“I told her we’d help, in whatever way we could. She seemed okay with that.”

 

“Good. It’s not like I’d give her any choice though, unfortunately she’s stuck with me,” Peeta grins. 

 

“Us, you mean,” Prim pipes in from her place at the counter. 

 

The rest of the night happens without much fanfare. Prim’s grainy loaf turns out perfectly and she insists we split it up for each of us before we start parting ways for the night. 

 

“Here’s yours, Rye,” she says, passing him a quarter of the loaf. “And here’s mine,” she adds, wrapping hers in wax paper. “And finally, for you two,” she finishes, handing us the other half of the loaf still in a single piece. 

 

“Why didn’t you cut ours?” I ask cautiously, looking between her and Rye and their mischievous shared look. 

 

“Because obviously you’re not coming home with me tonight. I saw the way you two were canoodling on the couch earlier. Eh! -” she squeaks, wagging her finger as I open my mouth to challenge her. “Don’t even deny it! I’m changing the locks on you tonight. Don’t come home!” 

 

I look towards Peeta at her words, my mouth agape from being schooled by my sister. 

 

“She does have a point, you know,” he whispers in my ear, his nose brushing gently against my temple as he pulls back. The intimacy of the moment makes a low heat burn in my gut and I can’t stop the cheshire grin that grows on my face. 

 

“Well, fine then,” I counter exaggeratedly, pulling Peeta until he’s taken the hint and we’re both grabbing for our things. We’re halfway out the door when Peeta remembers the bread, sprinting back to where I’d left it on the counter and tucking it in his coat. 

 

“Obviously we’ll need sustenance!” he laughs and then we’re falling out the door together, taking the stairs two at a time and nearly killing ourselves in the process. 

 

The trip to Peeta’s is a daze, my body thrumming with the light touches and body heat that he overwhelms me with in the cab. I close my eyes to let it sink in through my skin, his breath on my collarbone and his fingers brushing across my knee. Though nothing really happens in the cab, when we finally step out onto the curb I’m more turned on than I can ever remember being. 

 

Knowing that Peeta’s been facing his demons, that before Finnick’s death this intimacy would have been very different, makes my chest tighten with the depth of my feelings. 

 

“I love you, Peeta Mellark,” I whisper in his ear as we slowly undress in the dim light of his room. 

 

“I love you too, Katniss Everdeen,” he replies on a sigh, his breath burning across my skin. 

 

We move together slowly, every touch, every sound, amplified as the distance between us closes. I try to focus on the now, tucking away the memories that circle from the last time we had sex and how difficult the time after was. As I lay Peeta back across the bed, sliding up against him and reaching for the drawer where he keeps his condoms, I press kisses to his hip, his waist, chest and fingers. This time I don’t make him sheath himself, instead choosing to tear the foil packet and slide the latex over his shaft myself.

 

The moment is more than just an act of protection - Peeta letting me complete the task speaks volumes of his trust for me and his willingness to give in on things despite his need for control. 

 

I push all thoughts from my mind though when I slide down upon him, our bodies joining in a slow dance. When I’m close, Peeta rises up and presses his thumb to my center, bringing me over the edge. As the tremors course through me, he moves us until I’m laying beneath him and he’s thrusting quickly, his pace wonderfully jarring as it brings me back to the crest and then we’re pulling each other over, our bodies melding as the orgasm takes us. 

 

Afterwards, when Peeta rolls to his side to dispose of the condom, I chew my lip in anticipation of him leaving, preparing myself to handle it if he does once again leave to shower. 

 

“What?” he asks when he turns back to me, his face falling slightly. I hadn’t realized I’d been showing my fears. 

 

“I just...“ I trail off not wanting to say it. Peeta’s hand comes to brush the stray hairs from my face, cupping my neck as it slides downward.

 

 

“I think, we’ll be okay,” he whispers and then he’s kissing me hard and I feel like my chest is going to burst inside of me I’m so overwhelmed by my love for this man. 

 

It’s nearly 3am when we surface for air, my thoughts swirling around how this diagnosis for Prim which was once life-ending in my mind has lead me to this happy place that I never would have reached without it. 

Yes, there have been losses and we’ve had to struggle, and it’s been hard at some points, but we’re still here and now I’ve got Peeta and  Posi+ive and everyone else who has come into my life since that phone call from Prim. Something so negative has become a blessing in disguise and though there are surely hard times ahead, I know that I can face it because of the people I have around me. The people that  Posi+ive gave me. 

“I’m hungry,” Peeta mumbles into my hair as the realization crashes over me. “Let’s go make some toast.”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. That's all. That's the end. I'm going to go cry in the corner now.


	27. Prologue - NYE

“No, he’s just being Peeta about all of this,” I sigh into the phone, rubbing the heel of my palm against my eyes. It’s been a long night and I’m beyond exhausted, but I couldn’t miss my weekly phone in with Prim, especially not on New Year’s Eve.

“Are you sure it’s because of the test and not something you did?” She counters. I can hear the rustling of papers on her desk as she moves them around, leaving me on speaker phone so anyone passing by can hear. Sometimes I think she does that just to keep me in line when I call her. It’s probably a habit she’s formed since she moved out west a year ago.

It’s been almost a decade since our whole world changed and Prim was diagnosed with HIV. Since then we’ve grown stronger than I ever thought we could – Prim was now pursuing her dream of becoming a doctor and I was… Well, domesticating. The change had seen her move west for medical school and leave the stable community we had grown to be a part of. Despite my reservations, Prim had thrived and while the first few phone calls between us had involved me nursing my pain at her departure, we’d both changed for the better because of it.

“I’m sure. He always gets it in his head that it’s going to be bad news, it’s just something he does. Rye tries to talk him down from it but sometimes he just gets carried away. He always figures it out though,” I reply knowing it’s true.

Peeta and I had grown together over these last few years, even more so now that Prim was away at school. I won’t deny that there had been bumps along the way, some scares about my status and a fight or two that scared the hell out of me, but we’d come down every time together and grown stronger for it. He gave me hope for the future and stability, qualities that had been sorely missing from my life before he crashed into it. Now Peeta was now the director of _Posi+ive_ and I was working at a position Peeta had helped me secure for full-time at the legal aid office.

Or at least I had been until we had Charlie.

“Maybe he’s not getting enough sleep? A newborn will do that to a person,” Prim says, pulling me out of my thoughts. Yawning, I glance over to where Charlie is finally sleeping in her bassinette and smile softly.

Charlie had been the main cause of concern for Peeta this past year, his fear having spanned before the insemination up to today, the day of my testing.

I’d never known that having children was a possibility for magnetic couples before Prim’s diagnosis. Hell, I hadn’t even known what magnetic couples were let alone their fertility considerations. All of that had changed for me though and a large part of where I was now was likely because of Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair.

Peeta and I had made it a point to be there throughout Annie’s pregnancy, trying to help fill the void of Finnick being gone and to help her get through the challenging months that she’d been facing alone. We’d been there the day of Aiden’s birth, Finnick and Annie’s beautiful son, and we’d been there nearly every day since, helping her get a job and caring for Aiden like he was our own. I’d watched Aiden grow into almost a mirror of Finnick, his confidence and protective nature having helped Annie move on from Finnick’s death and into the centre’s educational community liaison. In those early years I also hadn’t failed to notice the look of longing on Peeta’s face every time Aiden had come around.

It had been that look that had made me change my mind about having kids.

“Are you sure this is something that you want?” Peeta asked again, the memory flooding me. It was late one night as we lay in bed together, the clear sky visible through the loft’s oversized windows. I was staring up at the stars, the idea of having a child with Peeta turning over in my mind.

Did I want children? Yes. Were Peeta and I ready for children? I thought so.

The consideration of HIV hadn’t even factored into my thought process. I’d known then for sure that this was something I wanted more than anything.

“I’m sure,” I whisper, turning to look him in the eye. I didn’t need light to see the glow my words had brought to Peeta’s features with my answer. He was in.

It hadn’t been an easy road from that moment on like I’d hoped it would be, though we both had come to terms with the reasons why. Our first visit to the doctors had been filled with the gritty details of sperm washing and the estimated sky-high cost of the recommended procedure of IUI, intrauterine insemination. From there, we’d battled not only the medical screenings but also our own fears.

Peeta had, on more than one occasion, been so terrified of my contracting HIV from the pregnancy that he’d nearly backed out. Each time though he would come around after having reviewed the medical research and by reassuring himself that the procedure was medically founded and relatively safe. My own fears had not been so easily squashed – though money wasn’t so much the issue now that we had medical coverage and steady incomes, I’d reverted back to my anxious habits by trying to control everything around me until my behaviour had forced Peeta and Prim to confront me about it. The fallout had resulted in both Peeta and I getting counselling together to discuss our reservations about the process. It helped.

The months leading up to the first IUI cycle attempt had been trying on us, but never once had we left one another to face it on our own.

Nor had the community. The moment we shared our news that I was well into my second trimester, I thought the centre would collapse from the excitement and baby gifts that started to arrive at Peeta’s desk. Among the gifts, Johanna had given spiked baby boots while Annie passed down her bassinette and Prim knit a hat and mittens. Haymitch’s gift had probably been the hardest on my hormonal emotions, bringing tears to my eyes.

“Here,” Haymitch grunted, thrusting the small bear into my hands as I waited for Peeta in the front lobby. I stared at him in slight confusion, my mouth struggling to form words. “It’s been… It’s…” I remembering watching as he looked awkwardly around us. “Ours didn’t… I wanted it to go somewhere it would be loved.” The meaning behind his words was heartbreakingly apparent.

“Haymitch.” The word tumbles from my lips with the heavy realization that this had been a gift for _his_ child. One that he didn’t have.

The memory stings inside of me as I come back to the present, my fingers rubbing the bear’s ear affectionately.

“I better get going,” I interrupt Prim’s chatter as I catch sight of the clock. “I’ve gotta get Peeta and then we need to get uptown. Call me at midnight,” I bid farewell to Prim and start to get ready for my appointment.

Peeta is waiting on the curb when I pull up to the centre, his blonde curls spilling out from the edges of his cap and his legs bouncing to keep warm.

“Hey there hot stuff,” I roll the window down and call out to him as he approaches.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he responds as he climbs in, his lips stealing a kiss before he buckles in. I smile to myself and pull back into traffic, heading towards my doctors as Peeta turns his attention to Charlie as she sleeps in the car seat.

We’re quiet all the way there and I know it’s because of what today could mean for us.

“Katniss Everdeen!” Cinna calls out as he enters the room, clipboard in hand and smile on his face. “Oh, and you brought along Charlie and Peeta. Good! The more the merrier! How are you doing, my dear?” He coos, sliding over to Charlie as she curls into Peeta’s chest.

I wish I was able to cuddle against Peeta right now, especially as my nerves start to fray and my heels clamour against the bed’s metal cabinets. At the noise, I see Peeta look towards me and frown, his hand reaching out for mine instinctively. Taking it in mine, I swallow the lump in my throat and dig deep into myself for the strength I know is hiding inside me.

“So, about the results?” Peeta prompts awkwardly, causing Cinna to stand up and look between us, lips pursed.

This is it. This is the moment I find out if the sperm washing worked or if carrying Peeta’s baby, if growing Peeta’s child inside of me for nine months, gave me the virus that Peeta has worked so hard to ensure I never get. This moment could tear him apart. I don’t even know what it would do to me…

“The bloodwork came back and after six months, it looks like we’re in the clear,” Cinna states slowly, his eyes tracing down his clipboard and then meet both mine and Peeta’s assuredly.

“No trace of HIV?” I confirm, my mouth dry. Cinna nods his head.

“We of course did the post-birth tests and they came up negative, as you know. These tests we have after six months when it’s more likely that if you did have HIV, your viral load would likely be detectable. Thankfully, that isn’t the case for you and the test is negative. You’re not positive, Katniss,” he affirms and the words are like rain as they wash over me and clear the fears from my mind.

“Not positive,” Peeta whispers mostly to himself, then again as he looks at me and smiles wearily. I recognize the look as a mix of relief coupled with his own breed of sadness, the kind that creeps in on him when he faces a moment where his virus has made his life more challenging. It’s the kind of sadness I hate seeing in his eyes, the kind that I know sometimes robs him of the really good moments in his life.

“Not positive,” I echo and pull him to me so that I can wrap my arms around him and Charlie and feel their heartbeats against my skin. “I love you, Peeta Mellark,” I murmur against his neck, my fingers gripping hard to his sweater. “I love you too, Charlie Everdeen-Mellark,” I add and brush my nose against my daughter’s.

We stay like that for who knows how long, Cinna having disappeared at some point and leaving us to have some privacy. The news comes as such a relief that I feel almost like I’m floating as Peeta guides us out of the medical building and back into the street. When we climb in the car, Peeta having placed Charlie in the car seat before joining me in the front, I finally feel my body relax and the tears come to me in a hot rush. I’m crying before Peeta even has his door closed and then his arms wrap around me so tight that I wish I could stay like this forever.

“When does this get easier?” I ask later that night, my tears long past as I rest my head against Peeta’s chest. The TV before us is playing its regular New Year’s Eve coverage, the sounds filling the quiet apartment around us.

“Over time. It’ll always be there, but it’ll get easier. It will,” he reassures me. I feel his lips press against the top of my head and his arms tighten.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh. It spills from me and I know I shouldn’t – I know Peeta would never wish this upon me – but I can’t help but hurt at the fact that he’s the only one who has HIV in this family and that he is the only one who knows what that truly means. Charlie and I, we won’t understand his battles, not really, and that’s good, I have to believe it is, but it also means he’s alone. I wish he never had to be alone in this.

“Katniss,” he pauses, his fingers sliding against the skin of my back until I look up to meet his gaze. Behind me I hear the buzz from the TV get louder, the impending ball drop getting closer. “Don’t apologize for this. For giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. Don’t apologize for giving me a happy, healthy, family to love. I would give my life for you and Charlie, in a heartbeat. This isn’t something we’re sorry for, it is what it is. Besides, without it, would we even be here today?”

The thought turns over in my mind and I have to smile. Would we be sitting here, enjoying this quiet New Year’s at home with our beautiful child in the room down the hall?

“I like to think we would. But I wouldn’t change this for the world.” And I know for sure that that’s true.

“Me too,” he says, his lips meeting mine for a brief moment. “Let’s make a resolution for a year where we only move forward.”

Our eyes meet, his so full of love and mine so full of hope. The clock countdown starts and I lean back, my hands grabbing Peeta’s shirt.

“We don’t need a resolution, we’ve already started,” I respond and pull myself into a kiss where I can’t tell where I end and he begins.

Later, I catch myself laughing. It starts as a small hiccup, right as the sweat cools on my skin as we lay together on the couch, and then bursts into a cackle that pulls Peeta out of his sleep.

“What are you laughing about now, evil woman?” He croaks, nose nuzzling into my neck.

“Oh, just something about bringing in the New Year with a bang.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year's Eve everyone! Please have a safe and fun night! Note that this bit didn't get sent to my beta because I'm flaky and just wrote it, so any and all errors are mine (I did my research but you know, I'm human and make mistakes). Love you all, have a great 2015!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an amazing collaborative work that I was lucky to share with Opaque, a wonderful person I met on FF.net. She evolved this story from rickety bones to a 360-angled story. I could not have done it without her and for that I'm forever grateful for her time and patience with me. 
> 
> On a special note, I'm not a doctor, I'm not even in the medical field, this story is being written by someone who has not experienced HIV but has worked within volunteer organizations involved in sexuality and HIV/AIDS awareness. I am not perfect, but I want to address the subject matter honestly and hopefully respectfully while giving you guys something worth reading. If you have facts, ideas, concerns, please please please contact me to discuss them.


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